Conversations 2
by aussieokie
Summary: These are conversations between Ressler and Keen taken from the new Season 2 episodes. They will be various one-shots and scene expansions, with things I'd like to imagine happened in the show. They will be Keenler, and from Ressler's POV - often with lots of Ressler angst! Chapter 14 is now up - more additional scenes from Episode 8 "The Decembrist".
1. Chapter 1 - Feelings

_So we FINALLY got Season 2 on the air after a very LONG summer without our show! So here we go with my first 'Conversation' from Season 2, Episode One "Lord Baltimore". And my apologies for including the first part word for word from the show. I just wanted to set the scene and get back in the saddle of writing "Conversations Season 2" (after writing "Hard Rain" the past two months) and start off with Ressler getting ticked off – which is always such a good look for him! _

_This series will be a little different to Conversations Season 1, (which were separate one-shots from each episode). In these Season 2 conversations, I am going to (try!) to have a more linear approach. A continuing story that weaves in and out of what we see on the show, and each chapter refers back to previous additions or edits I have made. _

_And as usual, these are mainly from Ressler's POV, and you see his thoughts in italics :-) _

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><p>Ressler's hackles rose as soon as he saw Dr Friedman enter their shared office. <em>So much for a successful end to our day. I am NOT talking to her.<em>

The woman focused her attention on the only agent she had yet to talk to at this site. She had read Ressler's file and saw what had transpired with the death of his fiancé and his subsequent actions. The stress of that, coupled with the death of his coworker and near death of his Assistant Director, made it obvious this man needed counseling. Of all the staff at this site, this agent was the one she deemed needed the most help. He couldn't ignore this any longer. She stood by Liz, looking over the desks to Ressler.

"Congratulations. I heard you captured the man you were after. I thought maybe now we could go over a couple of things." She heard Ressler groan, but continued. "Maybe take stock."

Ressler ignored the 'I told you so' look Keen was giving him, as she sat almost smugly at her desk looking across at him.

The fact that Ressler was avoiding this showed Liz he needed it as much, if not more, than any of them. And as his partner – and his friend – Liz wanted him to talk to Dr Friedman. Watching him now, she saw the change come over her partner. Gone was the grinning 'I'll buy that agent a beer' guy that had been there a minute before. Mr 'I-do-things-my-way' was back, and true to form he was already up and about to leave, ignoring the two women looking pointedly at him.

"Agent Ressler." Dr Friedman said, changing her tone with the agent now as he left the office.

Ressler ignored her, his politeness with the doctor throughout the day gone now. Dr Friedman exited through the door behind Liz, and cut Ressler off as he entered the war room, rapidly losing her patience with the agent.

Ressler tried to walk by her, acutely aware of Keen watching from their office. He ignored Liz, knowing if he looked into her eyes, she'd give him 'the look' and he always had a hard time ignoring that.

"I will recommend you for suspension." The doctor told him sternly, effectively blocking Ressler from walking by her now.

He stopped, and faced her down. "Look, I don't mean to be a prick here, but I'm not sure what you think you're going to fix." His voice was even, but Liz could hear the control behind it.

"I'm not sure either, until we talk." Dr Friedman told him, not giving an inch.

Ressler finally lost his cool. He inhaled sharply. "About what? Those agents who died today? About the fact that we lost a woman that we were supposed to protect?"

The memory of begging Meera to live as their tears dripped into her blood pool came flooding back. "How do I feel about that?" He raised his voice at the woman now, leaning into her face. "I feel like CRAP."

Behind him, Liz held her breath. No, don't do this Ress, not with the shrink, she begged him inwardly. Ressler had his back to her, but she didn't need to see his face. His stance, the way he was slightly leaning into Dr Friedman, and the tension in his shoulders told her everything she needed to know. As angry as he may be appearing to the doctor, she knew he was also holding himself back, not giving in by showing the woman the entire story of how he really felt. But he needed to back down completely before he did get suspended.

Ressler almost left Dr Friedman then but continued, trying to make her understand where he was coming from. "But I know the good we do here, why it matters. And am I worried that someday it's not gonna be enough? Yeah."

He glared at her, emphasizing his point. "And when that day comes, you'll be the first to know." He took one more look at the doctor, and then strode away, feeling Liz's eyes boring into his back. Agents in the room who had witnessed the exchange awkwardly stepped aside, suddenly busy with other things as he walked briskly by them.

Aram had been sitting front and centre, and got the whole show right in front of his desk. He also held his breath as he saw Ressler walk away, and then glanced over at Meera's empty desk. It sat vacant in the middle of the bullpen, a constant reminder that one of their team would never again occupy that chair. That she would never again fill the room with her British accent, and her cutting wit. Not one of them had sat at that desk since. That's probably not healthy, he was thinking, as Liz caught his eye, walking determinedly in the direction Agent Ressler had gone.

Ressler's stomach churned as he strode down the hallway. He momentarily eyed the elevator, but didn't feel like going up to the surface in the afternoon sun. Instead, he turned and headed down toward the interrogation rooms. _Rather appropriate, since Friedman wants to 'interrogate me'. _No one was around, thankfully. He headed for the small meeting room at the end of the hallway, past the interrogation rooms. It was dark, lit only from the lights in the hallway as he slipped inside, not wanting to turn the light on.

Leaning heavily against the wall, he closed his eyes and sucked in a lungful of air. _I shouldn't have left your side, Meera. I never should have split us up…_

He heard footsteps clipping down the hallway. He knew those footsteps. Of course Liz would follow him. As Liz entered the room she fumbled on the wall looking for the light switch, but was stopped with Ressler's voice from the darkness.

"Don't."

_The dark feels ...safe… Oh, hell, I don't know, I'm tired of feelings. _There was something right about being in the dark though. _The nightclub had been dark… she died in that dark passageway_…

She dropped her hand from the wall, and sat down at one of the chairs now. "Why don't you sit down here?" She asked him quietly.

He remained standing and all she heard was him sighing heavily in the dark. As her eyes adjusted to the dark room she saw him leaning against the wall, hands on hips with his teeth clenched in that oh-so-familiar look her partner had perfected. It had been a while since she'd seen that though. He had been far more relaxed around her of late. Cracking a grin at things that wouldn't have even have raised that signature half smile of his a year ago.

In fact, their roles had almost reversed. She had become the uptight, paranoid one, and he had become more open. That is, until you mentioned Meera Malik's death. Then he became as tight lipped as the agent formerly known as Ressler circa 2013, the frowning, stuffed shirt that held everything deep inside him.

"Tell me why you really don't want to talk to her." Liz asked him, getting right to the point. She was watching him and saw him turn and look at her, his eyes catching the light from the hallway.

"You know why."

"Humor me. Tell me why." She prompted, needing him to start talking about this. In the 2 months since they had their hands shoved around Meera's throat, her warm blood spilling all over them, she had tried to discuss it with him, but he would always clam up. He would then either change the subject or say nothing until she was forced to change the subject. How ironic that he had grinned at her this morning telling her not to change the subject when she'd mentioned Dr Friedman.

"What possible good can come of reliving it?" he asked her, standing up from the wall now and shoving his hands in his pockets, his breathing more even now.

"Because we get it out in the open so it doesn't stay trapped inside." She told him, still sitting, pulling out the chair beside her to encourage him to sit down too.

He didn't take the chair and continued to stand where he was. "I don't need to talk to anyone about this. It happened. It's done."

"I'm not 'anyone', Ress. We were both there when she died." She reminded him gently.

He dropped his head, looking down in front of him. "I know that Liz. But I was the one who sent her to look downstairs while I went upstairs. I was the one who should have…" He stopped, swallowed hard and took a step toward the door.

_To hell with this. I'm done talking about it._

She stood up quickly to block the doorway and he stopped short, looking into her eyes. The image of a caged lion ready to pounce came to her as she looked at his stance before her. This was the most he had said in the entire two months, and for his sake she needed him to continue.

"You should have what?" she prompted him.

_Stopped her getting her damn throat cut, Keen! _

She could hear his breathing catching in the dark, his voice a little louder now. "Protected her. I should have protected her!"

"Ress, you didn't know we were all in danger when you went to the club. None of us knew that until we got the call from Red." She looked up at him, seeing his eyes darting, the memories of the day consuming him. "You followed proper proced…"

"Yeah, and 'proper procedure' got her killed Keen! Her blood was all over the road - floor. That shouldn't have happened!" He spun away from her and leaned against the wall again.

_Dammit!_

He'd corrected himself, but she'd heard it. This wasn't only about Meera.

"Ress, this is hard for all of us. That's why the Bureau assigned Dr Friedman. There is no shame in talking about…"

"I am not discussing this any more." He interrupted again, and tried to move past her but she stood her ground, forcing him to stop. He backed up, then resumed his pacing around the small room.

_I should have just gone up the damn elevator and gone home!_

She watched him pacing and stepped toward him. "This morning you told me that you talk to me all the time. And you're right, you do. But I can only do so much. And it's not because I'm not 'qualified' to help you. It's because…" she inhaled sharply now, her mind back in the dark nightclub, with warm blood pouring over her hands. "It's because I miss her too. I was there too, right beside you Ress, holding her throat together as we – you and I – tried to save her."

"But we didn't save her Liz. They - she died." _Damn, stop doing that! _He leaned his head back on the wall now, sighing heavily.

"I know Ress. They both died and you were right there with the two of them. That's a lot for anyone to deal with. There is no shame in talking to a professional about problems you're having with this." She said gently.

"That woman out there," He leaned forward from the wall, and pointed back toward the war room, "that woman didn't even know Meera. Never met her. Never met… Audrey. How in the world can she have anything to say on this that would benefit me?" He looked across at her now, his eyes glistening more than earlier.

"That's precisely why she's able to discuss this with us. It's because she didn't know Meera… or Audrey… that she is able to step back and look at this from the outside looking in. We're too close Ress. We look at this with emotion, and that's unavoidable. She looks at it with a clinical eye, and can see areas where we may need… help."

_The only help I need is in my bathroom cabinet. _He shook that thought away.

He moved toward her now, toward the door again. "I'm not talking about this anymore, Liz. I don't need this. And if that's wrong, then fine. But this is my way of dealing with it."

"You need to remember that we don't have Cooper here to go into bat for us Ress… I doubt Martin will step up to the plate to bail you out if Dr Friedman does have them suspend you." She said, trying to reason with him, seeing him looking toward the exit again.

_Right now, I just need to get out of here._

He moved toward her again as she continued to block his path. He looked down at her, clenched his teeth and looked briefly away, then back at her.

"I really am done, Liz. Discussion over."

"I know. Believe me, even in this almost dark room, I can still read you like a book." She moved her hand to him and gently touched his sleeve, feeling the tension in his muscles underneath her hand. "But Ress, I want you to promise me something. I need your word that you will come to me if things get... too difficult for you. Promise me." She searched his eyes, pleading with him.

His jaw set, he met her eyes silently for a moment longer, then brushed past her to exit the room.

She let him go, standing there looking down at the table in the dark. He hadn't promised. Hadn't answered her at all, which in itself wasn't unusual for Ressler. But she had needed his word that he wouldn't keep it all inside if things reached breaking point for him... again. Yes, he had opened up to her somewhat, but still had not talked enough about Meera's death. There was far more going on below the surface that he was keeping to himself. And that filled her with apprehension.

His eyes squinting in the light, he walked down the hallway away from her, feeling his head starting to ache. He did not want to go to their office to shut his computer down or do anything else – or talk to anyone. Instead, he fished his keys out of his pocket and stepped into the elevator. He avoided looking toward their office in case Dr Friedman was still standing there waiting for him to return.

_That isn't happening. I am SO done._

Alone in the elevator as it rose to the surface, he looked up and sighed, long and deep. _Audrey… I've been doing my job. I had hoped no one could tell... But I'm not doing so good sweetie… _

###

Twenty minutes after leaving Liz he entered his apartment. It was still light out but his curtains were drawn, keeping it dark inside. Walking into his living room he turned the lamp on, seeing the soft glow fill the room, just the way he liked it. Throwing his keys on the coffee table, his gaze landed on the bar and reaching for a bottle he poured himself a shot. The scotch slid down his throat and he closed his eyes as the fire filled his belly. After pouring a second drink, he went and sat on his couch looking at the empty, softly lit room around him.

He didn't have photos in his apartment. Audrey had always wanted them to do a photo session, but he was never a fan of that. Have someone shove a camera in his face, telling him to smile here, place his hand there, look here. No thanks. He opened up his phone now though, and found the selfie that Audrey had taken one day. It was a little blurry, because she'd been laughing as she'd taken his phone and snapped the pic and had then handed his phone back to him. It was a work phone, a Bureau phone, but he had never deleted the photo. He looked at it now, at her laughing eyes, at her mouth…her hair… _  
><em>

He closed the photo quickly.

_Don't. J__ust don't._

Still in his suit, he stood quickly and loosened his tie, suddenly feeling like it was strangling him. The bottle of scotch was still on the bar but he walked by it now, making his way to the bathroom instead. He needed to wash this day off him and try and snap out of this.

He undressed to take a shower, but then leaned on his sink, his mind whirling. As usual, the memories that he kept in check while at work flooded over him as soon as he arrived at his apartment. Memories of women dying in his arms, in front of him, of blood…so much blood. And always, the guilt. That awful, aching guilt, knowing that he was responsible for both of their deaths. Today was no different. _No, actually, today is worse._

He slowly raised his eyes to the mirror, seeing his reflection staring back at him, almost accusatory. _I don't even know who you are half the time…_

There would be no sleep tonight, and no quieting of his brain – unless he took the pills again. Reaching for the prescription, he tossed two of them back in his mouth, grimacing at their bitter taste.

_I hate them. _

_I need them. _

_I hate that I need them._

Things were getting worse, not better. And alone in his apartment was always the hardest time, without work to keep him occupied. He turned the water on and stepped into the shower, feeling the water hitting him. He turned up the heat, but standing under the hot water didn't help. He still felt like crap, just like he'd told Dr Friedman. _I was honest with her about that._

He hadn't answered Liz's plea earlier, even though he knew what she had needed to hear. Though he had been unable to answer her at the time, now he reinforced the answer to himself.

_Liz, if things ever get too much, I promise to TRY and reach out to you. I can only promise you that._


	2. Chapter 2 - Late for Work

_So…I don't know how many times I said "OMG!" while watching Episode 2, but it was a LOT! Oh my God (there I go again) this was SUCH an amazing Ressler episode! When we saw him pop the pills at the end of Episode 1, I was stunned (but secretly pleased, because WOW, what a storyline for our suffering agent!) So then I figured in true Blacklist fashion, they'd gloss over it. But no, they didn't. And we are now seeing a pain pill addicted Ressler, who is off his game (yet has developed a wonderfully dry sense of humour!). So then I got really, really intrigued. Okay, we know he was late for work because of the pain pills. But WHAT SPECIFICALLY would have occurred to make him late? And then I thought, "what if...?" and this was the result._

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><p><strong>Part One - Ally<strong>

Donald Ressler had always been an over achiever. He had been top of his class in every subject in High School and College, graduating Valedictorian. That trend had continued when he was accepted by the FBI, which resulted in him graduating top of the Quantico Class of 2006. It was just natural for him to push himself to study and be the best he could be. He wasn't the least bit concerned with awards or plaques on his wall. That's not why he did it. He needed to push himself to do his best purely to prove it to himself. No matter how hard his instructors may have been on him, he would always push himself further.

That attitude had always held him in good stead. 'Never do anything unless you can do it well' became the mantra he lived by. It's why he was made head of the Reddington Task Force at the age of 30 in charge of agents with far more seniority than him. A coveted position - and he had earned it.

So it came as no surprise to himself that he pushed and pushed himself to get back on his feet (literally) after the Anslo Garrick incursion. After his leg was ripped apart. Torturous sessions of therapy, leaving him sweating and heaving, all in an effort to get the use of his leg back. Because if Donald Ressler was good at one thing – it was pushing his body beyond its limits.

It had started innocently enough. Coming out of surgery to repair his shattered thigh, he felt fine – for about 6 minutes. Then the pain hit and his entire body shook with the trauma that had been inflicted upon his left thigh. In the hospital, it was almost too easy. Push the button every ten minutes and morphine flowed down into his waiting vein. A drawing sensation followed, and within minutes, numbness filled his entire being, dropping the pain in his leg to a much more tolerable level. It enabled him to push to get out of bed before he was ready. And it enabled him to start therapy earlier than his doctors envisaged.

When he came home, still a therapy outpatient, he was armed with enough pain pills to see him through a few weeks. It wasn't morphine - that had been stopped within three days of surgery. These were Oxycontin, a safe alternative, the doctor had told him.

They were prescription drugs.

They were legal.

They were safe.

When Ressler again pushed himself beyond his limits in an effort to return to work, he had a new ally on his side. His brain had a side kick - Oxycontin. His brain, so adept at learning how to be good at everything it studied, couldn't help itself. It learned how to be good at taking pain meds. Take one at a time and the pain was tolerable. Take two at a time and the pain went away. The Oxy allowed him to push himself back to work sooner than he would have without them. He became able to work long hours, and still be able to tolerate the pain on a leg that should have been resting after about 4 hours. They enabled him to return to the job he lived for and needed.

When the prescription ran out, it was a simple fix. One call to the doctor explaining a rough day at work and hurting the leg again, and a new prescription was written. After a month, he tapered off on the pills. After another few weeks he stopped taking them, the physical pain and trauma from his shattered leg having long since abated. The almost full bottle of Oxy sat at the back of his bathroom cabinet, no longer needed. He didn't think about them anymore.

And then Audrey died in his arms.

In the immediate aftermath of her death, his adrenaline took over. In the days following, he struggled more than he ever had in his life. His wife-to-be and child were ripped from his arms. Because he knew, even though he never found the pregnancy test, that she had been pregnant.

His body screamed with a different type of pain. In a way, a pain far worse than he'd suffered with his shattered thigh. Exactly one week after Audrey died, two days after her funeral and after his first day back at work he stood in his bathroom - and his eyes landed on the forgotten bottle of Oxy.

He needed to push through this. He needed to be able to work, because the memory of Audrey was everywhere in the apartment. The pills numbed physical pain. Would they also numb emotional pain? And his wonderful brain that was so adept at studying learned something new.

Yes, they did.

His body that was so used to pushing itself, needed to push again. And so it had become a nightly ritual. Get home from work, take a pill, then shower and settle down for the evening. It seemed the perfect plan. He was able to push himself through the grief with much more control, and continue working his job while keeping his mind focused. The added bonus was they allowed him to actually get a few hours sleep at night.

And then Meera had died in front of him.

And two hours later, Cooper was clinging to life.

New pain surfaced, and new guilt. And his sharp brain that was usually so focused on everything around it was suddenly fooled. Taken down by the very thing it had thought was an ally. If one pill helped, then two had to be better, right? And taking them twice a day had to be better than once a day, right? And at first, that logic panned out. Things became tolerable again. He pushed through it again.

Donald Ressler never even acknowledged he had a problem - until the Bureau assigned a psychologist to talk to them. Keen had been wrong. It wasn't that he thought himself too healthy to talk to Dr Friedman. It wasn't only because he didn't see how talking about death would help him. While he certainly didn't see how that would help, it wasn't the entire reason. It was because Dr Friedman would see right through him.

It was because Dr Friedman would know he had become an addict.

###

**Part Two - Enemy**

It was 10pm, and it had been 14 hours since he'd taken any pills.

Ressler sat in his living room, averting his eyes from the small bottle of Oxy sitting on his coffee table. He'd been home from work for three hours and hadn't even moved from his couch. Driving home, thumping the steering wheel in sheer frustration, and more than a little panic, he had made the decision that he didn't need them anymore. But while he had decided he was through with pain pills, he couldn't seem to get up and do anything else but sit and look at the bottle in front of him.

_I'm not doing it anymore. I'm done._

He hadn't set out to become addicted. He refused to be labeled that going forward. He was stronger than that, and knew how to push through things. He'd been doing it his whole life. And this was no different.

_I refuse to take them any more. Simple. I'm done._

But as he was discovering, it was far from that simple. His body hurt. Seemingly from head to toe, every muscle had begun hurting. His hands were shaking. Quickly clenching his fists to steady them, he looked up at his small TV. He wasn't the slightest bit interested in anything that might be on, but he reached for the remote and turned it on anyway. Anything to distract himself. After three minutes of flipping through channels he turned it off, threw down the remote and stood up. Lacing his fingers through his hair, he stood there, eyes closed and took a shuddering breath.

_To hell with this. _

He tore his tie off, and began undoing his shirt buttons with difficulty. His shaking hands were all thumbs and almost in a panic, he ripped the last couple of buttons on his shirt, needing to get it off him. Throwing his clothes in the hamper, he finished undressing and then stepped into his bathroom. Deliberately ignoring his reflection in the mirror, he kept his head turned away. If he looked at himself right now, he knew full well he would not like what he saw.

He stepped into the hot shower, letting the hot water flow down him and seep into his aching body. With his eyes closed and head bowed, he leaned his hands on the wall in front of him as the water poured down him.

It helped.

But only a little.

Steam rose around him, obscuring the glass. Cocooned in his shower, he tried very hard not to think about anything else but the warm water cascading down him, warming his aching muscles. And for a little while, he succeeded at that.

Until a wave of nausea struck him, and when he started dry retching under the hot water his momentary reverie was broken. In its place, his stomach roiled and he clutched it, crouching down on the tiled surface. The hot water no longer felt good. It invaded his space now, heating up his body to a level he suddenly found unbearable. With an effort he rose to his feet, turned the water off and almost fell back down to the tiled shower floor.

_I just need to sit here for a bit…_

The tiles held the warmth from the water as he sat in his shower, clutching his stomach. The good news, he noticed, was that his hands had stopped shaking as much. The bad news, he then realized was that his entire body was starting to shake instead. Which most definitely wasn't helping with his painful muscles. He was getting cold now and rose to his knees then dragged himself up and stepped out of the shower. Grabbing a large towel, he wrapped it around himself and then wiped the mirror with his hand.

Bad idea.

_If Reddington was here, he'd tell me 'Donald, you look like hell'. _

He dried himself, threw on a clean t-shirt and track pants, then sat on the edge of his bed. When he was sure his stomach had settled down enough to leave the vicinity of the bathroom, he shakily walked back out to his couch.

It was now 11pm. 15 hours without a pill.

And there they were, sitting on the table. The elephant in the room. _The monkey on my back._ Still shaking, he sat on his couch, drawing his knees up and hugging them now. Dropping his head to knees, he closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the pills.

_How the hell did I end up like this?!_

###

Audrey was reaching down to him, telling him to come to bed. He looked sleepily up at her and smiled. "Hey sweetie, sorry, I guess I fell asleep out here." She reached out and stroked his hair and smiled, then kissed his forehead. She held out her hand to him and he took it, feeling her soft skin beneath his fingers. She half dragged him off the couch and he followed her as she led him to their bed. As they reached the bed, he put his arms around her, embracing her, smelling her as he buried his face in her hair. Lost in her, feeling the warmth of her against him, he smiled and whispered in her ear. "I love you…" and smiled even more as she chuckled, kissing his cheek. He moved to the bed, dropping her in front of him, and reached down to kiss her again…

His head shot up as he woke with a start.

Still on the couch hugging his knees, he was alone in the semi dark room. Audrey was gone, and would never again come and wake him and take him to bed. _Audrey!_ He closed his eyes, trying desperately to find the dream again. To find Audrey again. But he was awake now and tears began to fall as the last threads of his dream faded. Trembling, he dropped his head again, his tears pooling in his folded arms across his knees.

_I miss you sweetie. I need you!_

As he slowly collected himself, getting his tears under control now, he looked across at the clock. It was 1:20am. Over 17 hours without a pill. Turning his head to the side, he looked at the small bottle through red rimmed eyes as it taunted him from the coffee table.

_I'm not taking you. Forget it._

With an effort, he got off the couch, his muscles screaming at the movement. _I need SOMETHING though!_ He shakily reached for the bottle of scotch on the bar and poured himself a shot. _Let's just swap one addiction for another._ Ignoring his inner voice, he quickly gulped it down, and then slammed the shot glass down on the bar. The alcohol stayed on his stomach for about 20 seconds before he felt it coming back up. Lurching to his bathroom, he threw up in the sink, the alcohol burning on its way back up. After rinsing his mouth out, he shakily leaned on his mirror with his eyes closed. The cool glass felt good on his forehead.

He padded out to his kitchen and took out a bottle of water out of the fridge. He took a sip, standing by his kitchen sink to see if it would stay down. _So far so good._ He took another little sip and it made no attempt to come back up either. Figuring his stomach was going to behave, he made his way back out to his living room and stood in front of the coffee table. The bottle of Oxy was illuminated by a shaft of light peeking through his closed curtain. One perfectly placed shard of light, focused right on the very thing he was trying not to think about.

_They have to go._

He did it so fast he didn't have time to question it. Snatching up the pills, he turned quickly to his kitchen. As he hurled them in the trash, the lid swung for a moment and then stopped, the kitchen silent again.

For a second or two he felt relief. Then fear overtook him._ What did I just do…?_

Trembling harder now, he turned and walked to his bedroom to put as much distance between him and the pills as he could. Turning the light off, he dropped into bed, and forced himself to lay down. _It's too dark!_ He quickly reached over and fumbled for the switch on the bedside lamp, feeling safer with it on. Feeling less like he was suffocating in the light.

The shakes overtook him now, making the pain level in his muscles reach a new high as his back arched with the pain. Rolling to his side, he curled up and hugged his knees and tried to stop shaking. His muscles rebelled, and a strong cramp gripped his left calf, holding it vicelike as the pain shot through his lower leg.

"no no no no" He struggled out of bed, panting as he did so, begging the pain to stop.

Standing shakily on the floor flexing his calf, he stretched out his foot until the muscle unlocked and swift relief followed. Afraid to try lying down again, he stood there, his body a shaking mass of pain. Dragging a blanket off the bed, he clumsily wrapped it around him, and eased himself down onto his recliner, panting hard.

The pain was intensifying due to the unrelenting shaking. As if to add insult to injury, the very thing that had started off this nightmare spoke up. His left thigh screamed at the onslaught it was enduring. He tried rubbing it, but it only made it worse. Throwing off the blanket, he quickly undressed again, and headed for the shower. Maybe the hot water would help again.

It didn't.

Standing under the hot stream, his body rebelled. The hot water felt intolerable, feeling as if it were tearing his skin from his body. Slamming the water off he stepped out of the shower and grabbed his towel, panting in pain.

_Oh God… I can't do this. I can't!_

He hobbled out to the living room, his towel wrapped around him, shaking. Maybe the whiskey would stay down this time and help. Almost spilling the bottle as he poured a shot, he overflowed the small glass, whiskey pouring on his bar. Placing the bottle down, he grabbed the shot glass and swigged it back, feeling it run down his throat. It burned from where he'd thrown up earlier, but it did stay down this time.

Another cramp shot through his calf muscle again as he stood there, and this time he had no way to ease it. He was already standing and try as he might, he couldn't stretch his foot enough. He howled in pain, dropping to the floor and trying desperately to stretch his calf. Tears rolled down his face as he agonizingly turned onto his stomach. Finally managing to get his toes in the right position, he stretched his calf muscle and the cramp let go. He dropped his head to the floor, laying on it now and panting hard. Frustration bordering on sheer panic enveloped him as he thumped the floor with his clenched fist.

_I can't. I can't do it! I will never be able to go to work like this!_

And he knew what he needed to do.

After a few minutes, he was able to stagger to his feet, leaning heavily on the bar, feeling like the world's worst drunk. Straightening, he made his way to the kitchen now aiming straight for the trash can.

Aiming straight for the discarded bottle of pills.

Taking the top off the trash can, they were sitting there between an empty pizza box, a few beer cans and some plastic bags, almost daring him. Almost unable to stand up any more, he reached his shaky hand into the container and retrieved the precious bottle of pills. Standing there in his kitchen shaking uncontrollably, he gripped the bottle in his hands.

Simultaneous shame and relief poured over him.

_Maybe I don't need to take them._

_Oh God. Yes I do!_

It was 2:40am. Almost 19 hours without a pill.

Placing the bottle on the kitchen counter, he washed his hands and wiped down the bottle. His stomach wrenched again in another spasm. He leaned over the kitchen sink expecting to throw up, but then his stomach decided there was nothing in it to expel.

He reached for the pill bottle and placed two tablets in his hand.

He'd had many crossroads in his life. And at each one, he had taken the path he believed was best for him to be on. And it usually panned out right. But ever since Audrey had died, his crossroads in life had not taken the right path. As he looked at the two pills in his shaking hand, he knew what the right path was. Ultimately, he knew the right path was NOT to take them. But his body had been hijacked and was no longer under his control.

His brain that was trying so hard to push through it had been overtaken by an enemy combatant. It couldn't rise above that. It couldn't muster the forces that were required to fight this battle. It needed reinforcements, but none were coming.

And as he leaned on his kitchen sink shaking uncontrollably, he moved the pills toward his mouth, closed his eyes and knowingly took the wrong path.

He popped the pills in his mouth, took a tiny sip of water and swallowed.

They made their way down his throat, and he waited, clinging to the kitchen counter to see if they'd stay down. And as if to prove they were needed, his stomach felt the first effects of the drug it needed so badly and settled, keeping the pills down. He managed to drag himself to his bedroom and fell into bed after discarding the damp towel on the floor. Still shaking and in agony, tears filled his eyes again as he shut them tight, willing the pain pills to start helping his exhausted body.

_Audrey! I'm sorry sweetie! I couldn't do it!_

And imperceptibly he felt a change. A warm tingling feeling ran through his body as the drug dispersed. His muscles began to react one by one as the medication seeped through his body, filling each blood vessel and travelling to his entire system. Within 9 minutes, the edge was being taken off the pain. Within 17 minutes, his shaking slowed. And within 22 minutes, he lay still in bed with his shaking subsided and his muscles silenced.

He looked at the clock. 3:13am. It had been 22 minutes since he'd taken some pills.

He was exhausted. Unable to move, he didn't even think to reach up and set his alarm. At 3:16am unable to stay awake any longer, he fell into an exhausted, drug induced sleep. And at 5:30am when his alarm should have gone off, he slept right on through. His body had fought a battle, but had ultimately lost. It had also won, depending on which side you looked at it. As he slept on, his system stabilized, having received the treatment it had needed.

At 6:28am he opened his eyes, noticed the light level in the room and sprang out of bed. His calf muscles were tender as he stepped onto the floor. All of his muscles had a shadow of pain, still regrouping from the overnight battle, but he could definitely function.

For the third time in 8 hours, he stepped into his shower again, this time quickly and efficiently shaving and cleaning himself up. Stepping out of the shower, he reluctantly looked in the mirror, but was surprised to see he looked almost…normal. A few eye drops took care of the redness in his eyes, and after combing and gelling his hair in place, he took stock again. He'd do. He'd past muster.

He dressed quickly in his bedroom, looked in his full length mirror, and saw Special Agent Donald Ressler standing before him in his suit and tie. Separating what he saw on the outside from what he felt on the inside was his specialty. And once again, the walls were firmly in place around him. With a final look in the mirror, satisfied he could look like an FBI agent and function like one, he walked to the living room. Grabbing his keys, he turned toward the front door.

And then stopped.

Dropping his head, he turned and then looked toward the kitchen. He strode back in, picked up the bottle of Oxy and put it in his pants pocket. For the first time, he left his apartment armed with the bottle of pills. He could no longer risk being anywhere without them, that much had been proven overnight. He exhaled deeply, shook his head, and again wondered how the hell he had ended up like this.

###

Thirty minutes later, he entered the Post Office. Groaning inwardly, he could see from the elevator that the briefing was already underway. Taking a deep breath he tried not to interrupt as he walked up to them. Cooper eyed him mid sentence, Aram looked at him nervously, and Liz's eyes burned into him questioningly.

He was standing among his work colleagues. One of the team. Yet feeling an outsider.

For the first time in his life, Donald Ressler had arrived late for work.


	3. Chapter 3 - Truth is the Best Defense

_This is another one-shot from Episode 2, "Monarch Douglas Bank". Ressler was a wonderful combination of fully on, and yet completely off his game in this episode! But on watching it several times, what I began to see is how wary Liz was with Ressler. Even before the 'sitting there doing nothing/his reactions were crap' scene, she was looking at him carefully. Which got me thinking…what happened between him arriving late for work and them leaving to go catch the plane to Warsaw that got her feeling so cautious around him? And then my imagination took over…_

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><p>"I want you and Ressler on the next flight to Warsaw." Said Cooper, having heard enough. If he was upset - or at least curious - why his lead agent had shown up late for work, he certainly wasn't going to mention it here.<p>

Liz's gaze flickered to Ressler, who was looking at Cooper. Their boss had directed the order at her, but Ressler answered for both of them. "Yes, sir." She thought he looked decidedly uncomfortable talking to Cooper.

As Cooper and Aram walked away, she turned her attention fully to her partner. Physically, he looked the same as ever. Suit pressed, tie impeccably placed, shirt ironed, and shoes so shiny she would see her reflection in them (if she'd looked down that far), but still there was something…different… about him. It wasn't how he looked. It was how he carried himself. Right now the air of "I'm trying to appear like everything is normal' was radiating off him so thick she could cut it with a knife.

"Everything okay?" she asked, eyeing him dubiously, knowing full well he wasn't reading the file he was apparently engrossed in.

He made sure to appear distracted, looking at the file on the MD Bank. "Yeah, I'm fine." He looked up, seeing she wasn't buying that. "Just missed my train." He normally drove in, very rarely taking the train.

_You just dug a little hole and stepped right into it feet first. _

She was looking at him warily, but he couldn't handle her scrutiny right now. Not after the night he'd just had. Not with his entire muscular system still inwardly quivering like a violin string ready to snap.

"What?" And as soon as it was out, he knew he'd said it too abruptly.

_Way to go, that's not going to make her suspicious. Not. At. All._

She didn't say anything. Didn't need to. Because he knew what she was thinking, and if she voiced it, things would go downhill rapidly. There were times he really hated having a profiler for a partner. But then again, he was no profiler yet he could read her pretty well. Without another word he looked at her impatiently then walked away, heading to their office.

_Damn it. Settle down. Just act normal. Breathe… _

He inhaled deeply; trying to follow his inner voice as he walked to their office with his head down, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze. No one could tell a thing if they looked up at him. But HE knew things were different. It wasn't painted on his back, like the bright yellow FBI on their navy jackets, but to him it felt like there was a giant sign on his back for all to read.

_FDA (Federal Drug Addict) or maybe FBSTD (Former Boy Scout Turned Druggie). Shit. I'm a freakin' drug addict._

Liz was a few steps behind him, reading the tension in his shoulders, the incline of his head, and the half clench of his fists. He whipped around the doorway to their shared office, and if she didn't know better, she'd swear he was about to punch the doorway as he went through but held back at the last second.

Leaning in the doorway of their office, watching him as he threw some things in his bag in preparation for their flight, she almost couldn't drag her eyes off him. What the hell was going on with her partner? If Dr Friedman saw him right now, she'd cart him off kicking and screaming to her office. Putting him in a straight jacket if need be.

His skin almost crawled under her scrutiny. _Dammit!_ _Stop looking at me like that! _The thought occurred to him that calling in sick might have been a 'better' option today. But that wouldn't have worked. Cooper practically forbade his agents to be sick. Ressler didn't even know the protocol for calling in sick, come to think of it. What he did know though, was that he couldn't take Liz looking at him a second longer. Finished with his overnight bag now, he roughly zipped it closed and looked up at her.

"For God's sake, Keen. I was late. Get over it." It was out before he realized, and he turned from her and scowled.

_Smooth move. Let's get the hell out of here._

"Okay, well, as long as you're fine." She said, entering their office now. Of course he wasn't fine, but if that's how he wanted to play it, she would give him the benefit of the doubt. Silently grabbing her gear from her filing cabinet, she held her tongue as he barged past her, exiting their office. If his actions had been subtle when he'd arrived, he had now risen to full on bull-in-a-china-shop mode.

Ressler's imagined sign on his back now felt like it was illuminated in neon. With the Goodyear blimp hovering above it for good measure, advertising it for all to see.

_How the hell did I let this happen?!_

Following Ressler through the war room, she nodded her farewell to Aram who smiled as she walked by his desk. Aram stole a glance at Ressler as he powered past him with Liz in tow. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something…not right…about Agent Ressler. In all honesty when he looked at the man, the impression Aram got was that of a loaded gun about to go off. And that was kinda scary…

As Liz stepped into the elevator Ressler held the door open for her, but did not meet her eyes. She looked sideways at him again as the elevator rose. He could feel her gaze, and was feeling increasingly hostile under the weight of it.

"Okay, enough of this." She reached by him and pressed the Stop button on the elevator. The gears ground to a halt, and they stopped between floors, in a yellow, silent box.

He groaned inwardly._ Let it go Keen. _

Facing him, she dropped her bag to the floor, and kept her voice low and steady. "Before we step out of this elevator, you are going to tell me what is going on."

He slowly turned to look at her, silently meeting her eyes. He kept his voice steady, trying not to betray the anger bubbling below the surface. "We have a car waiting. We don't have time for this." He went to press the Go button, but she beat him to it, covering it with her hand. His hand landed on hers, and he quickly dropped it, turning to face her silently.

"Spill it, Ressler." She gave him 'the look'. She knew he never could outlast that one.

He wasn't going to let her win that one today, though, suddenly unsure why he couldn't control the rising anger he was feeling.

_You're a drug addict. Connect the dots, genius._

He leaned into her now, dropping his overnight bag on the floor as he faced her, his voice controlled, but taut. "Why are you so concerned about me being late? You're late four days out of five, Keen. Do I give you the third degree every time?!"

"I'm WAY past only being concerned about you being late, Ressler. My concern now is …this." She waved her hand at him, encompassing him standing before her like a coiled spring.

"I am only like THIS because you feel the need to profile every thing I do." He answered her, leaning in even further.

"I'm not profiling you. A week ago you told me the Bureau had only assigned shrinks to cover their asses in case one of us wigs out. 'That ain't gonna be me' you said. News Flash, from where I'm standing, you are seriously close to wigging out here."

"I'm close to it? Says the woman who doesn't live in one place more than a week, who is using aliases and thinks she's being followed. Take a look in the mirror Keen, before you start accusing ME of something." His voice was raised now as he shoved his hands in his pockets to avoid pointing in her face.

His fingers felt the bottle of Oxy sitting in his right pocket, and he gripped it hard. _Dammit. _His stomach dropped to the floor. For one awful moment he almost felt like Liz could see the pills right there in his pocket.

Liz was about to offer a heated reply when her phone buzzed. It was Aram, texting her.

[You guys okay? We see the elevator is stopped between floors.]

She sighed and typed a quick reply. [Staff meeting] She dropped her phone back in her pocket, not waiting for a reply.

The text from Aram had distracted her. But the interruption - not to mention the bottle of pills gripped tightly in his hand - had defused Ressler. In a matter of seconds, his anger fled the scene. In seconds, he went from coiled spring ready to thump something …or someone… to standing there with his head down, feeling nothing but dismay.

When she looked up from her phone, she immediately saw the change in him. It was night and day. She swallowed the reply she'd had loaded and ready to fire, and instead, exhaled heavily.

"I'm worried about you Ressler. You're not yourself, and we're going on foreign soil and I need you to have my back." She told him, leaning down to look into his face that was still dropped, looking at the floor of the elevator.

"I've always had your back, Liz. Don't question that now."

"Yes, I know… but you're not ...YOU right now…"

He knew she wasn't letting this one go, and if they were ever to get out of here and to the airport without missing their flight, he had better make this good. He had better make it believable. With a profiler for a partner, truth was his best defense. His only defense.

_Well - PARTIAL truth._

He inhaled, then let it out slowly, then lifted his head to face her, meeting her square on. "Since you're so interested in this, fine. I didn't sleep very well last night. It was one of those more …difficult nights." He glanced to the side, then back at her, almost pleading with her not to ask any more than that.

_Just don't ask. Don't ask, Keen._

With great effort, she suppressed the urge to again tell him he needed to talk to Dr Friedman. As she looked into his eyes, there was no denying he was telling the truth. She was also very much aware that he was hiding the reason WHY the night had been more difficult.

"I know you've had difficult nights before yet still been early to work though… " She said, trying her best not to sound judgmental or accusatory.

She hadn't asked, stating it as a fact rather than a question. He met her eyes, and then glanced away again.

_Let it go already, Liz._

She continued when he didn't answer. "I'm not prying… I'm just… worried about you. You're not yourself today." She tilted her head to look at him, and he turned back to her, meeting her blue eyes with his own.

_PARTIAL truth._

"The difference was that this time I forgot to set my alarm."

_Because I was a strung out wreck at the time. _

"And why couldn't you just tell me that when you got here?" She asked him.

He looked down, then met her eyes again and actually managed a hint of a smile. "It's a guy thing. We have our…male chauvinistic pride, remember?" In the dim, yellow light of the elevator, his eyes shone as he looked at her, eyes that were a little bloodshot, she noticed now.

"Yeah… Look," she placed her hand briefly on his arm, "just don't wig out on me, okay?"

_I'm trying not to Keen._

"Because I need you to have my back. And so far you haven't instilled much confidence in me today, okay?" She told him. Yes, she felt bad for him that he'd had a bad night. But they all had bad nights – and didn't act like he had today. So yes, she was concerned. And worried. And something else - she was wary of him, almost waiting for him to have a meltdown. And that was the most unsettling aspect of all.

He looked silently at her, not wanting to tell her any more than he had. Their eyes locked for a moment longer before he nodded. Reaching past him, she pressed the Go button to release the elevator.

"Okay, then let's roll." She said, then looked sheepishly at him.

"You stole my line." He said, a half smile appearing now, as the elevator shuddered a moment before resuming its upward journey.

She looked at him again, silently begging him to be okay. Because she couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that something was most definitely NOT okay with him.

On the surface at last, the doors opened at the parking garage level. Picking up their bags they stepped out together, before Ressler jogged briskly down the stairs followed closely by Liz, to the waiting vehicle outside.


	4. Chapter 4 - Amazing

_Yet another one-shot from Episode 2, "Monarch Douglas Bank". This isn't very long, compared to other chapters! Although we got a beautiful scene between Liz and Ressler at the end of their day, we were still left with him sitting there looking at the pills in turmoil. I couldn't help but think what was going through his mind…_

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><p>Ressler sat at his desk, the office softly illuminated by his desk lamp as he finished signing reports from the day's case. Outside their office, the war room was silent. The monitors were off, and most people had left for the day. Aram was working late at his desk, and he knew Liz was still around somewhere. After the day they'd had, the office felt like a safe port in a storm.<p>

Things had been off between him and Liz most of the day. _Yeah, almost getting her killed will do that…_ Not exactly tense, they just hadn't been on the same page as much as they should have been. He had felt her watching him. Felt her mistrust of him… Felt her waiting for him to… _wig out…_

Head bowed, he hadn't realized she was there at first, then looked up and gave her a small smile as she stood in the doorway.

She entered their office and sat near him on the edge of his desk, but he kept signing his reports. While truth was his best defense with her, silence was where he was most comfortable. The inner demons that had whirled in his brain just that morning were silent for the moment. He knew why, of course. He'd had his fix…his brain was calm in between doses of Oxy.

When she apologized he was surprised. "I'm sorry." She said softly, watching him as he worked in the light of his desk lamp.

_YOU have nothing to apologize for. _

"For what?"

"In the taxi in Warsaw, I came at you pretty hot." She said, and he was right there again in the back seat leaning over Kaja, his hands covered in her blood.

"Fog of battle" he told her, and looked back down at his reports.

She continued, praising him for taking care of Kaja. His body might have been slow to react when the mirror was shot out, but once he saw Kaja had been hurt, his brain felt sharp as a tack. Which, in hindsight, really made no sense.

_Kaja was shot just like Audrey was. I should have…lost it at that… seeing blood on a woman's stomach again, yet I didn't. Score one for the Oxy…the dream team._

He focused again on what Liz was saying. She didn't need to be doing this. He didn't need it. So if she was doing it to make him 'feel better', she was failing in that department.

Completely.

You did good." She finished, and in that moment the pit of his stomach dropped to the floor, because he hadn't done good.

_Not even close._

And in that second, looking down at his desk, his eyes darting, his brain alight, he had started to share the fact that she was right. That he had put her life in danger because she was right; his reaction time HAD been crap.

"You're right…" he said, looking up at her sitting on his desk. She deserved more from her partner than he had given today. In that instant, he tried to tell Liz that he had been… _impaired…_

_I almost got you killed. I was too slow!_

But then the well oiled machine fired up. The practiced routine he had developed so well over the years kicked in - of burying things inside him while keeping up appearances on the outside.

The brick wall went up so fast it took even him by surprise.

He had prided himself on taking several bricks – a lot of bricks - off his wall around Liz. Of letting her see more of him than he ever would have imagined on the day they first met. Over the course of the year, he had opened up to her and let her in. He had only ever dropped more bricks around one other person.

And she had died in his arms.

Yet in that split second he had swiftly changed tack. Leaning back, away from Liz – away from her trust in him – away from the painful truth - he told her what she wanted to hear.

"I was amazing." He grinned, while inwardly screaming at himself that he was FAR from amazing.

Her face had lit up at that, as she smiled and rolled her eyes, which almost _…almost…_ made the lie worth it.

_No, it didn't! Don't you dare justify it! Your crap reaction time almost got her killed!_

And in that instant, while he was silently berating himself, she had stood up to leave. Looking down, he didn't see her hand reach out. But suddenly her hand was on his right shoulder, gripping him. It was there for but a moment, placed on his shoulder in apology and friendship. That's what was on the surface. If anyone had looked at them, that's all they would have seen.

But below it, there was much more meaning in that simple touch.

- I'm sorry.

- You know I've still got your back, right?

- I know something is up, and when you're ready to talk, I will be here for you.

- I'm worried about you.

All of that, and so more was silently transmitted to him in one simple touch.

And when she had done it, the overwhelming urge to suddenly reach for her hand had shot through him. To quickly grab her hand and hold her there with him to tell her... The truth.

That he had lied.

_I was not amazing._

_I'm… a drug addict. _

_I'm in trouble Liz._

The thought lasted a split second. He did not act on the compulsion. He sat completely still as she placed her hand on him, and still hadn't moved by the time she left their office. Frozen to the spot, with his brain on fire.

As he leaned back in his chair, he stole a furtive glance over his shoulder to ensure she had left, dropped his pen on the desk, momentarily closed his eyes and exhaled deeply.

_I was not amazing, Liz. _

His body moved now though. As soon as he was alone again, his hand reached for the drawer. Reached for the pills. He couldn't help it. He needed to hold them. To look at them. Because he needed them - hated them - loved them.

Because he was terrified of them - but more terrified of being without them.

Holding the pill bottle, he was unable to fathom what had happened to him.

_How can they have such a hold on me?!_

He was stronger than this - had always been ridiculously capable and physically able to withstand a ton. Yet these tiny pills, smaller than his little fingernail had taken over his entire life.

They had hijacked his body. They had almost cost him his partner today. They could in all likelihood cost him his job.

Inhaling sharply, he blinked back sudden tears of sheer frustration and helplessness.

_I don't know what to do._

_I don't know where to turn._

_Audrey… _

_Liz…_


	5. Chapter 5 - Coffee Break

_Okay, so this is from Dr. James Covington, right after they've let the doctor continue with the transplant, and the surgery is over. Ressler is looking at Keen, concerned when he hears her talking about trade offs. I liked this scene, because it was a case of 'the pot calling the kettle black'. Couldn't Ressler see that he'd changed just as much as she had in this past year? So I added a little ending to that, (and reference the story "See You Tomorrow" from my Conversations 1 series.)_

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><p>Ressler stopped and looked back at her, shaking his head a little. "The fact that you're even thinking about what trade-offs you'd make, what rules you'd ignore. The Agent Keen I met a year ago would have never done that." He looked at her and then turned away, leaving her standing there as his words hung in the air around her.<p>

Walking down the hallway, his nerves were experiencing that oh-too-familiar feel of being stretched just a little too tightly. It had started during the last hour of the transplant while they'd waited outside the OR for Covington to get done. He needed to get out of here and find somewhere to… _dope up… _His hand reached to his right pocket, reassuring himself his drug of choice was still with him.

_Damn. I hate this. _His thoughts were interrupted as he heard Liz behind him.

"Hey, wait up." She jogged to catch up to him as he walked down the plastic lined hallway of the pseudo hospital. The children who were patients were being transported one by one to city hospitals. Innocent victims in Covington's plans, but they would be looked after.

Ressler stopped and waited for her, holding up the plastic drapes that they'd walked through a few hours ago when they'd entered this strangely surreal little underground hospital.

"Coffee break?" she asked him almost apologetically.

He looked around at the agents and ambulance medics milling around the place. The scene was being taken care of and their jobs were done here. And it would be the perfect place to have a moment to himself.Meeting her eyes again, he nodded. "Sure."

They made their way down the hallway, retracing their steps from where they'd entered the building. The wooden stairs led them back up to the street level, where they exited the building. Reaching down, she retrieved the crow bar from the ground.

"Don't forget your spare key." She said, and he smiled and took it from her, returning it to the back of their vehicle. They climbed in the Suburban together, and he started the engine. He hesitated before putting it in gear, looking sideways at her, as she put her seat belt on. _Will I ever be able to tell you what I have to do every 12 hours? _He squashed the thought, turned and looked in the side mirror and then pulled out into the street.

It wasn't long before they spotted a café and he parked in front of it. Entering together, he held the door open for her before they gravitated toward a booth at the rear. While Liz slid into the booth and picked up the menu, Ressler looked around for the bathrooms.

_Time for my fix…_

"Order my coffee. I'll be right back" he said before she could reply. He didn't have to tell her what he wanted. They'd had enough coffee house stops that she knew his standard order.

Striding down the hallway to the restrooms he quickly slipped in the door. His reflection looked back at him. Every time he did this, he was drawn to the mirror, searching his eyes, wondering who he was seeing. Leaning on his hands on the counter top, he sighed heavily and closed his eyes.

_I need to stop this. I tried. I can't._

Shaken, still arguing with himself, he stepped into a stall. It wouldn't pay for an FBI agent to be seen popping pills in public. He stood there a moment, gathering his wits about him. With two pills in his mouth as he exited the stall he cupped a handful of cold water to his mouth, swallowing them down. His eyes rose to the mirror, drawn again to the person looking back at him. Not for the first time, he asked himself the age old question.

_What the hell are you doing? _

_Slowly killing myself, I'm sure._

Quickly washing his face, he took a shuddering breath then left the bathroom and headed back to Liz. Their coffees were already on the table as he slid into the booth across from her, his stoic Agent Ressler façade already firmly in place again.

"I ordered us a couple of sandwiches." She told him, "I don't know about you, but I'm famished."

Eating was the last thing on his mind. But rather than draw attention to the fact he couldn't face food, he simply nodded and smiled. Reaching for his coffee, he took a sip. As it slid down his throat, he looked up at her.

"I'm sorry. It's my turn to apologize."

"For what?" she asked, taking a sip of her own coffee.

"I wanted the same thing you did today. To save that boys life. We were both wrong Liz. And both right. And yet I judged you for making the same decision I'd also made." He half smiled at her, looking down, then back up at her.

"Apology accepted. For what it's worth, I'd do it again in a heartbeat to save a child's life." She said, looking over her coffee cup at him.

"Yes, but that's not what I'm sorry about. Well, not all of it." He added, looking away, then back at her dubiously.

"Oh?" She knew what else he was sorry about - but was going to let him spell it out. Over the past year, she'd 'taught' him how to start expressing himself more by simply sitting back and letting him try and find the words. Encouraging him without saying a word. And he'd got pretty good at it, she thought.

"You may not be the same Agent Keen you were a year ago. But I'm not the same Agent Ressler either…" he said, then hesitated. _You have NO idea…_ "I've changed too, in fact probably more than you…" _Let's not go there._ He got back on track. "So I was wrong to call you out on something I'm guilty of myself."

She leaned forward toward him. "I'm not making excuses… but do you think maybe we've been around Red so long, with his way of doing the wrong thing to achieve the right result that it's considered…normal to us now?" she asked him, looking up at him in question.

He dropped his gaze to the table, thinking about that. He knew what she was saying. _Maybe…_ "But we're each responsible for what we choose to do Liz, regardless of what others do around us."

_Like taking drugs when those around us aren't._

_I'm so freakin' screwed up._

She nodded. He was right. "So either we both deserve a medal or both deserve to be suspended for what we did today." She said, not altogether joking as her eyes met his.

His internal berating of himself quiet now, he focused back on her and replied. "Something like that." He leaned back as the waitress brought the sandwiches. She placed them between them with two smaller plates beside them. At the mention of suspension, he was immediately recalling Dr Friedman's relentless pursuit of him this past couple of weeks. She always threatened suspension, yet so far…_well, I'm still on the job._

As the waitress left, Liz took a sandwich and bit into it, letting out a satisfied moan.

"Would you and your sandwich like to be alone?" he asked dryly, and she rolled her eyes at him.

He smiled as he sipped his coffee, but made no move to eat anything himself.

The edge taken off her hunger, she wiped her hands on a napkin and faced him. "Would you be honest with me about something?" she asked, turning innocently to look into his eyes.

_Oh, here we go._

His guard was immediately up. Feigning nonchalance, he shrugged at her. "If I can." He said, covering his bases.

_Here comes the interrogation._

"Has Cooper ever called you 'Donald' or 'Don'?"

He was NOT expecting that. His mind had been expecting 'when are you ever going to see Dr Friedman?' or 'what's going on with you?' or even 'are you on drugs, because you have this whole drug addict vibe going'. So no, he wasn't expecting that from her.

"What? Why?" He then recalled the morning Audrey had died. His head dropped, and he looked to the side and she saw the cogs turning. He didn't even have to say it. Yes, Cooper had.

"Because he called me 'Elizabeth' earlier today. It was… " she searched for the word.

"Fatherly and filled with genuine concern." He finished for her, knowing exactly how Cooper would have said it. Their boss was a lot of things. Gruff, overbearing, unfair at times, fair at others, and yet somewhere deep inside he cared a great deal about the agents in his charge.

She nodded, remembering the conversation in Cooper's office. "Exactly. He's concerned I haven't grieved for Tom, or for our marriage…that I haven't taken time off for myself. Dr Friedman has expressed concerned about me, and that makes him worried, basically."

Ressler looked at her, and had to agree with Cooper. "He's right. You haven't grieved or taken time off."

"Says the man who was back at work as soon as he could be after his fiancé died." Her eyes widened and she inhaled. "I'm sorry. That was…"

He was already shaking his head to dismiss her concern. "The truth, I know that." He finished.

_I'm always finishing her sentences…_

"So he told me if I needed to talk to someone, his door was always open…" she finished, and looked up at her partner.

"You have people who care about what you're going through Liz. Don't be so surprised that he'd offer that." He told her, holding his coffee cup in both hands.

"Do you think I'm paranoid…?"

_And here we go. _

He didn't even have time to answer, before she spoke again. "Because I pretty much attacked an innocent guy walking with his gym bag this morning."

"Well, the fact you just said he was innocent should tell you all you need to know on that one, Liz." he told her evenly.

She looked at him, sighed and looked away. He was watching her, seeing almost for the first time how different she was. She looked different. Well, the hair was obviously different, but she dressed differently, and she was… tougher.

_She's brown, instead of pink and blue._

"Yeah… I don't know, I still think something is going on…" she shrugged.

"If you have a guy following you with a gym bag again Liz, you call me. And I will be the one to come 'talk to him', okay?" he told her, leaning forward on the table.

"You mean you'd rough him up for me." She said, and at that, they both laughed. He leaned back in the booth, looking at his partner. Yeah, she was different, but underneath she was the same Liz Keen.

As her grin subsided, she looked at him seriously. "Thank you."

"Any time. I rescue cats from trees too." He told her, smiling into his coffee.

She reached for another sandwich. "Aren't you eating?"

"I'm not hungry." If he ate something, he was sure it would come right back up.

_Which would SO not be a good look._

But now she was studying him, in that manner he recognized so well. "The look." The one that instantly took him from a competent (albeit drugged out) agent to shrinking violet.

"You didn't eat this morning either, when Jan brought the donuts in."

He decided on the humor approach. "Hey, I have to maintain this girlish figure." He grinned.

She wasn't buying it though, "And today, you sounded out of breath a couple of times. And seriously, I ran faster than you did when we chased down Cassell on the motor cycle."

_My nerves were shot, okay? I needed more dope. Or less dope._

"Must be getting old, I guess." He said, keeping his features calm, but losing the humor now.

She scoffed at that. "You're not old. But you may be coming down with something."

_Yeah, I'm coming down with a serious case of drug addiction._ He shrugged non-committally, not trusting himself to sound normal.

"Maybe you can go see the doc and get some pills." She offered, and he about choked on his coffee at that. He couldn't bring himself to answer, not with a profiler for a partner, so instead he placed his cup back on the table and looked at his watch.

She saw him and knew they needed to get back to the office and start their reports. "Yeah, coffee break's over. Is it my turn to pay?"

He smiled and nodded to her, rising to his feet now. "I got the last two times, remember?" he said, having regained his composure.

She left the money on the table before they walked back to the car outside. Their small break over, he pulled out onto the street and headed back to the Post Office.

Ever since the first night they'd gone for coffee, after she had invited him to dinner and he'd declined, they had started this little coffee break once or twice a week.

It was something they shared.

It was something they looked forward to.

It was something they needed more than they would ever admit to themselves.


	6. Chapter 6 - Quarantine

_So, I have to admit, I've been a little disappointed with how little the writers have given Ressler to do the past two weeks. After getting us SUCH a good start with him, with them humanizing him and seeing that beautiful grin and sense of humour (and that awesome second episode (tampon anyone?!) suddenly we were back to him standing in the war room looking at monitors or flashing his badge importantly as he interviewed people. And then when Samar and Liz were the ones rushing to the airport to apprehend the suspect, I about screamed at the TV – "give me Ressler and Liz at the airport together!" But that scream would have paled in comparison to the one that came when I realized we weren't going to get a scene with Ressler going to check on an infected Liz when she was behind the glass door! I SOO wanted to see that! So when the writers didn't give us that, I decided to rectify that situation!_

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><p>The corridor leading to Gate C-17 at Dulles was deserted as Ressler walked briskly down it. Airports were supposed to be busy. Pushing and shoving past people to get to the gate that was always at the furthest point from where you happened to be now. So this really didn't feel right, walking past Gate after Gate with no one around. At the far end of the hallway men in yellow bio suits were gathered and he made a bee line for them. He approached the Gate now, not entirely sure where Liz and Samar were. Aram had said Gate C-17, but didn't elaborate. As Ressler approached, he noted the handful of FBI agents standing by the window. What he noticed first was that the CDC types were dressed head to toe in yellow plastic and all he could see were their masked faces, basically. The poor ole' Feds were dressed in… well, FBI jackets.<p>

_Seems a little…unsafe…_

After spending three hours with Aram tracking down the other flights and getting them grounded or turned back, they had finally got done with the FFA. Aram had then left the war room to see Cooper, after a couple of secret phone calls in corners muttering something about power grids. But at that point, Ressler really wasn't listening. He needed to get out of the war room. Checking his right pocket out of sheer habit, making sure his ...little friends... were there he'd grabbed his keys and headed to the surface. He knew where he was heading.

Because by then the only thing he needed to track down was… Liz.

Getting to Dulles hadn't been easy. With the quarantine in place, he'd had to show his badge at every street corner. He was almost turned back numerous times. At one point he'd about had a stand up fist fight with one 'weekend warrior' National Guardsman type, but he'd persevered until he finally pulled up outside the airport. And now he was almost at Gate C-17, and there…

_There she is..._

He hadn't been sure what to expect. She'd been infected with the plague and his mind was running rampant. Would she be delirious...? Or unconscious? _Or all sweaty and babbling..._ Or would she be covered with something… _really infectious looking all over her_.

So when he saw Liz and Samar huddled together at the door looking...normal... he was both surprised and relieved.

He'd expected them to be quiet and pensive. So he was rather taken aback when he saw them…laughing.

_Okay..._

He flashed his badge yet again to the yellow plastic guy who had turned to ward him off, then dropped down to a crouch and tapped on the glass. Liz looked up at the sound, and on seeing him smiled in surprise, wondering how on earth he had got there.

"Ressler? How? How did you get in…?" she asked him. From behind her, Samar leaned forward a little, looking up at him. _  
><em>

He couldn't hear her very well through the glass. And he didn't want to shout out their conversation for the world – well, the few Feds and plastic CDC guys to hear. Opening his coat he showed her his phone and she reached for hers too. Feeling like some bizarre prison visitor on the other side of the glass with a corrupt underworld criminal, he sat down on the floor, leaned on the glass to face her and pressed her speed dial number.

She smiled, answered, and now he heard her voice clearly. "How did you get in?" she asked.

"Drove here. Only had to flash my badge 847 times. It was a piece of cake really." He smiled at her.

She chuckled at that. "But you shouldn't have come…it's not safe here." She told herself that, but really, she didn't mean that. She was very surprised... very glad… to see him here.

His smile left his face as he looked at her now. "Are you all right…? I mean really, are you feeling okay Liz…?" he asked her, speaking quietly into his phone, searching her eyes for the truth.

He saw the momentary flash of fear before she hid it. "Yeah, actually I am. Samar isn't doing too good though, as she has a gunshot wound."

Ressler settled more comfortably on the floor, and looked beyond Liz again to where Samar was sitting in the corner. "She got shot…?" _I 'only' thought she was infected with a deadly disease._

Liz looked at him and bit her bottom lip. "Our suspect fired at her a split second before I took him out... if I'd been a second faster..." He saw her look over at the body in the room, then back at Samar. She leaned into Samar then, hugging the woman and reassuring her.

_Curious. _Four hours ago he'd watched Samar storm off from Liz after a mini catfight in the war room, and he'd been ready to go give her a piece of his own mind. _Now they're gal pals, apparently._

_Women. I'll never understand them._

He nodded. "Well, I'm sure everything happened very fast." _Hell, she's infected with the plague, what good will beating herself up about firing a split second too late do at this point?_

She looked back at him, speaking into her phone to him again as she turned a little more to face him. "Any progress on the other planes?"

He knew what she was doing. If she focused on work, she wouldn't have to think about herself dying of the plague in some airport lounge.

"Yeah, got 'em all back before they reached their target cities." He told her, thinking of the endless phone calls that had taken. He had the FFA on speed dial now - and was practically on first name terms with all their employees. "It took a while, but Aram and I got there." He said tiredly, leaning on the glass.

_And then I hightailed it out of there before Cooper could bench me again._

He stopped, looking at her. If there had been no pane of glass between them, they'd have literally been about sitting in each other's laps – sitting on the floor on each side of the door, facing each other. Funny how …safe… a barrier a pane of glass could be. Leaning on the glass, looking inside at the room it hit him that he'd told Cooper they had no cure. But now...that seemed so much more real. So much more...

He looked into her eyes and held them. "Liz…" he started, but she interrupted.

"I know. Don't say it. We'll get out of this, okay?" She met his eyes, leaning against the glass and he nodded before briefly looking away at the yellow CDC guys.

_How? There is no cure. _But he wasn't going to argue with a _…dying woman._

He changed the subject, somewhat. "How's Samar doing there?" he asked, not really being able to see where she'd been shot or how bad it was.

Liz turned and hugged the woman again before turning back to Ressler.

_She just hugged her again… Seriously…Women…_

"I have the wound packed with my coat and the bleeding is somewhat under control for now. She got hit in her left side…" she told him, looking back at him. Her hands were bloody, he noticed now.

"Are you okay?" she surprised him when she asked him, looking at him with concern from the other side of the glass. From mere inches away, really.

_She's the one in the room infected with the plague, and she's asking me if I'm okay?_

He looked down, then back up at her. "Yeah…I'm fine. Been a long day. But yeah, I'm fine." _Worried …about you… but I'm fine Liz…_

"Because you don't look fine Ress…" she said softly, holding the phone closer as she met his eyes.

"Just tired Liz. You know, it's not that easy being stuck back at the war room with Cooper and Aram all day while you two are out having fun in the field." _Getting infected and injured…and maybe dying in front of me…_ He smiled, trying to make light of it. He had tried very, very hard this afternoon, after hearing that she'd been infected. To anyone else, it might have even looked like he hadn't even been concerned.

_But Liz saw through that. Of course she did._

He changed tack again. "What were you laughing about right before I got here?"

She looked at him a second, and then grinned as she turned to Samar. "Oh, you don't want to know that."

He got it. "Aaahh, girl crap." He smiled, and again wondered how the hell Liz and Samar had suddenly become besties in such a short time.

_I guess dying together will do that…_ And that sobered him up. He looked at his watch. If they didn't have a cure in 5 hours... _I'll be looking for a new partner._

She saw the look in his eyes, and knew what he'd been thinking when he looked at his watch. She couldn't let him dwell there.

"Nipple guards." She smiled.

He blushed. "Um…?" He raised his eyebrows at that.

She cracked up when she saw the expression on his face. It struck her again how boyish and charming blushing made him seem, the rare times she'd seen it. And in that moment she wanted the pane of glass gone and wanted to… well, she wanted the pane of glass gone.

"It would be lost in translation, but yeah, that's what we were laughing about." She smiled.

She looked up at him leaning beside her, then placed her hand on the window, palm facing him.

He looked at her hand. "Are we going to do that whole Mr Spock and Captain Kirk thing?" he suddenly smiled, taken by the likeness to 'that' famous death scene in the Star Trek movies.

His smile left his face as he said it though and he met her eyes beyond her hand. In the movie they'd been saying goodbye when they did that. He wasn't going to say goodbye to Liz. Not like this.

She dropped her hand now, laying it back at her side. "No, not today." She felt it too.

She looked back at Samar then and checked her pulse. The woman was losing blood and needed to be out of here. They both needed to be out of here, but she wasn't sure how or if that was going to happen. She looked back at her partner, seeing him leaning on the glass thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry..." she said, and his eyes lifted up to hers. "I came in here deliberately to help Samar. I chose to come in here and I got infected. I'm not sorry I helped her. But I'm sorry if that's...going to be the last thing I ever do for another person..."

He understood. "I know." he smiled. "I'd have done the same thing."_ And maybe me being here will be the last thing I ever do for you Liz..._

"Of course you would... my Boy Scout." and she smiled then, tracing her finger on the glass near his hand that was resting on his knee. He looked down then, and blinked back sudden tears. He didn't want her to see that. _She's the one dying here..._

From beyond her, he heard a phone ringing as Liz turned toward the sound. It was Samar's phone and she answered it breathlessly.

After a brief conversation, she hung up and looked at them both. "That was Aram. Said he's been trying to call each of you but couldn't get through". He thought there may be something wrong with your phones." She smiled at them knowingly, watching them both as they looked sheepishly at each other, still holding their phones up to their ears.

"Anyway, Reddington has obtained the cure after finding it at the compound, and vials of it are now arriving at the hospital." She leaned back on the wall and closed her eyes at that news, catching her breath. Liz laid her hand on her in reassurance.

It took a second for that to sink in to Ressler's brain. She'd said it so casually.

Reddington had found the cure.

_Reddington did? Well of course he did. _

Liz turned back to him and smiled tiredly. "So I guess this won't be the last thing I do for another." And Ressler nodded, dropped his gaze and smiled thankfully at that.

"So what does that mean for us getting out of here?" Liz started to ask, but then saw the answer herself. The plastics (as Ressler was now referring to them) were approaching the glass, full of intent, their yellow containment suits crackling.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to step back. We have authorization to enter the room and evac the patients to the hospital. And you can't be here." He noticed the other FBI agents were already well on their way down the corridor, out of the way.

Ressler looked at Liz as she smiled at him and spoke into her phone. "We'll be okay. How about you head back before Cooper misses you?"

He hesitated. He didn't want to leave her right now, yet he had no protective clothing on. He nodded, knowing he had to leave. But before he did, he gave her his half smile, then placed his palm on the glass in front of her. She met his eyes and smiled and placed her smaller hand on his, the only thing between them, a quarter inch sheet of glass.

"I'll see you on the other side, Ress." She smiled.

"Live long and prosper." He deadpanned into his phone, and she cracked up up at that, making Samar wonder what the joke was.

He held his hand there a moment longer as he smiled at her, watching her laugh. They didn't need to say anything else and both hung up their phones, letting them slide back in their pockets.

He got up off the floor and stood looking down at the two of them, then moved aside as the plastics made ready to break the seal on the door.

"Sir, if you will head down with the agents toward the far end of the corridor, we will see to the ladies and get them to the hospital. We'll take good care of them." Ressler thought he sounded like a storm trooper, talking through his mouthpiece on his suit.

_God, it's been a long day. I'm losing it._

He smiled at Liz again, looked at the plastic, then left and walked down the hallway. As he was walking down the hallway alone, his phone rang and fishing it out of his pocket he saw that it was Liz.

He answered the call without saying a word, and all she said was "Thank you. It meant a lot." And she hung up.

He smiled. He hadn't needed to reply.

"Be safe Liz…" he said softly to himself, exiting the corridor now as behind him, the plastics broke the seal on the door.


	7. Chapter 7 - Dead Run

_So, after waiting all week with absolute nervousness (yes I was nervous!) and baited breath to see Ressler being hunted, I must admit I loved what we got – but was SO frustrated that it wasn't enough! (Maybe I'm just never happy?!) But seriously…he's being hunted, then we get this LONG scene between Red and Peter Fonda, and all about Dembe (I loved hearing Dembe's history, don't get me wrong – but did it have to be right THEN?!) and meanwhile our favourite agent is running for his life and not getting any screen time! So yeah…'just a little' bummed out about that. And then at the end, he 'just appeared' in the ambulance?! Seriously?! How did he get out of his running for his life?! How did he get rescued and taken to the ambo?! What did he and Liz say to each other - and why was the scene shot from SO far away?! So, when I calmed down after seeing him SO sad at the end (when he broke down I literally cried with him...) I thought, well, maybe this is how it all went down…_

_(And yes, it would appear Diego himself read this chapter, seeing his reply to me on Twitter! And you guessed it - that about made my giddy Diego/Ressler/Keenler heart explode!)_

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><p>The campfire was making him sweat more, sitting in the wool hat and coat. And sitting with stuffed bodies wasn't helping the situation either. <em>What kind of sick…?<em> He'd never seen anything like it. And coupled with how his gut was currently feeling, it was all he could do to sit still among them, wearing a wool hat and coat that a dead, stuffed guy had just been clothed in. But it was his only chance. He couldn't run right now after his legs cramped up. And so he sat…holding a cup, sitting as still as he could before the…hunter…caught up to him.

_Damn it! Keep your hand still! Keep your head down!_

There was movement off to his right. Someone approaching – _and talking to the stuffed bodies?! Good God. _

The cup was moving and he gripped it harder, which only made it shake more. _Damn it! Keep still!_ And as he struggled to keep his breathing in check as sweat rolled down his face, the eyes of the man turned toward him. Ressler wasn't even looking at the tall, bald man but he could feel his eyes burning into him.

_Now! _He lunged, jumping over the campfire, and hit the man full on in the chest. He'd hit brick walls that were softer. The man fell back from the log at the impact, and rolling on the ground, Ressler's head struck the ground and he grimaced in pain. And then he was being lifted. Bodily lifted, as an adult would lift a child. The strength of the bald man was incredible.

_Or I'm just too much of a JUNKIE to resist right now. _Chungs' words wouldn't stop shouting in his brain.

Ressler fought, but the bald man's hands were around his throat, holding him up against a tree trunk as he struggled for breath. Panting, trying to move away, he was trapped. If he'd been in a better frame of mind he might actually have found it amusing that all 6 feet, 180lb of him was being lifted this way - held against an unforgiving tree trunk. _The guy has to be 7 foot tall!_

_Knife!_

He saw the knife coming up, realizing in horror that he was unarmed. _No, not completely!_ The arrow tip that had killed Chung was now in his hand. He swung it, striking the bald giant in the gut, ripping the arrow through him. Terror met his eyes as he looked into the bald man's face, and then blood was pouring onto his hand. He hit the ground as the giant let go of him. Struggling to regain his feet, he scooted away from the man, who was now clutching his bleeding stomach with both hands.

Clambering unsteadily to his feet now as he ran, his breath heaved in his chest. _Run! _And in some distant memory he heard "Run, Forrest! Run!"

_Run, Donnie! Run!_

And he ran. As fast as his unsteady feet could carry him, crashing blindly through the underbrush. Within moments was out of sight of the bleeding giant and his sick taxidermy camp fire. He kept running, until he tripped and fell headlong on a tree root, crying out and gasping for breath.

Rolling onto his back testing his ankle that had caught the tree root, he looked up at the tree tops that rose above him, barely moving in the stillness. The only sound permeating the night was his heavy breathing and he tried desperately to still it. He was also sure someone would hear his heart pounding in his chest. Thankfully his ankle was still mobile, but another cramp tore through his belly then, causing him to retch again as he struggled to roll over. Climbing unsteadily to his knees, he clenched his shaking hands again, ignoring the throbbing in his broken thumb.

He'd give anything for a pain pill right now.

_Absolutely anything._

But no pain pills were coming. He'd checked his pockets a dozen times, his thumb screaming each time he did so, and they were most definitely not on him.

_You're a junkie. Now move it!_

He moved. Lurching to his feet, he took off again, heading away from the camp fire that was still barely visible through the trees behind him. But of the giant, there was no sign. Running for another minute or so, he pulled up short, grabbing a tree trunk as the ground dropped off sharply in front of him.

_Damn it._ The ground dropped away at his feet. He'd have really done a number on himself if he'd fallen down that sharp incline.

Turning, he followed the ridge now, still heading away from the campfire. He had no clue what direction he was heading, having long since lost his bearing. _I think it's south…we'll say it's south._

The road with the gas station had been off to the east when he'd approached the Ranch. He stopped, looking around for anything that could tell him what direction he was heading in. And then he looked up, seeing only trees. Moving to a small clearing he looked up again. Teen astronomy 101 kicked in. It had been a while, but he recognized the major constellations. _Okay, there's the North Star… Yeah… I think... okay, then this way is East… _He moved off, slower now, still looking behind him. There was no sign of pursuit.

He looked up at the sky again, seeing something that made his breath catch in his throat. Sinking to his knees, looking up at the sky, he stared in wonder at the Aurora Borealis. The Northern Lights danced slowly above him, green sheets of light shimmering in the sky.

"Audrey…" he whispered, thinking of her as he watched the green and purple curtains rippling across the sky.

And suddenly, tears flowed down his cheeks at the pure beauty of it. In the midst of running for his life, his body screaming, sweating and cramping with no pills, he was struck down by the sheer majesty of the lights in the sky above him.

And for a moment, he almost didn't care if this was the last thing he ever saw.

###

A sound came from behind him and to his right, bringing him to his senses. Looking sharply in that direction he then quickly charged for cover behind a tree, the spell of the lights above him broken now. Keeping a lookout as he leaned on the tree trunk, his stomach suddenly heaved again and he leaned over, dry retching.

_Keep quiet! _Absolutely sure an arrow from a cross bow would shoot out from the dark at any second, he couldn't stay there and turned and ran again. Heading along the ridge, he hoped like hell he could reach the road that he'd come in on.

The northern lights above him lit his way now. But he soon realized they also lit the way for his pursuer. And it was while he was making his way over a large rocky outcrop, keeping in the same general eastward direction, that he realized his pursuer must have overtaken him. A flashlight shone in the trees off to his right, and he had nowhere to go. He was on the rocks, with the drop off to his left, and commotion in the trees in the direction he was heading for.

_Dammit! Move!_

He ran as fast as he could and almost fell over the rocks in his effort to get ahead of his pursuer now. He had no choice if he was to overtake the man and reach the road. Hurtling through the trees now, his breath was heaving, keeping an eye on the light off to his right. He was well aware of the noise he was making. A flashlight was moving through the trees to his right, getting closer.

He was running so hard, with his eyes averted to the right that he didn't see the man in front of him until he slammed right into him.

_God! No!_

He rolled on the ground, his thumb screaming in agony having taken most of the brunt of the hit. _Get up! Get up! Get up! _

"HRT! Freeze!" The man yelled out.

Ressler saw the assault rifle pointed right at him, and was picking himself up off the ground to hurtle away when the words registered in his fried brain.

_HRT?! _He made out the green uniform of the Hostage Rescue Team then, and gasped.

"Wait! …Donald Ressler! …FBI!" he yelled at the man breathlessly and staggered to his feet, leaning over as another cramp shot through his belly.

The man withdrew his rifle immediately and instead reached out one arm to Ressler to steady him. With his other hand he picked up his radio.

"Subject secured! I have located the Federal Agent! All units converge on my location."

As his stomach settled, Ressler stood now with his chest heaving looking at the HRT guy. "Am I … glad to see you. There's a man out… out there with a cross bow, hunting me…"

"We located him and two others sir, at their home. All suspects are now deceased."

"What…?" _Then…no one has been pursuing me for a while…?_

Other men were making their way through the trees now, surrounding him. Ressler suddenly felt very exposed. Sweating and unsteady in the midst of them, he felt like the entire world could see… _I am a junkie…_ Chung's words wouldn't shut up in his head. He'd denied it. But Chung had been right.

Someone threw a light blue blanket over his shoulders and he gripped it, mainly for something to shield himself with than for warmth.

"If you are able to, you can come this way sir." The HRT guy told him and Ressler nodded as they left the area. He noticed the men kept their weapons at the ready on the perimeter. But right now, he was too exhausted to care and just needed to get to wherever the men were leading him.

And sit down and have some pain pills.

As it turned out, he had been very close to the ranch house. In just a few minutes they approached the scene and he saw it swarming with FBI and HRT. For a second he stopped. It was Stanley Kornish all over again. The Stewmaker and his cabin in the woods, swarming with law enforcement. He found his feet again and continued walking unsteadily toward the scene.

Led to an ambulance, he almost fell down on the back tailgate rather than sitting. His legs were fast abandoning him, feeling like spaghetti and his body hurt everywhere. He was glad for the semi darkness, not wanting to be seen by too many people right now. The medic appeared beside him, asking him something.

"What…?" with an effort he focused on the guy, listening.

"Are you hurt sir?" the medic was asking him, reaching for his stethoscope and listening to Ressler's chest.

Silently, Ressler motioned to his right ear that had been tagged. Like a deer. A deer that had been hunted to be slaughtered. He'd have ended up like one of those poor stuffed guys sitting around that sick taxidermy campfire. He leaned forward at that thought, his stomach clenching.

"Are you nauseous?" the medic was asking him, now checking the tag on his ear.

_You could say that. Junkie withdrawal's a bitch._

"I'm fine…" he panted, just wishing the guy would hurry up.

"I can give you something for your stomach, if you wish." He told the agent, but at that moment Ressler just wanted to walk away. Just walk away and stand in the trees by himself. Because he was trying very hard not to lose it.

He didn't answer the medic. Just shook his head a little.

"Okay sir, keep still and I'll get this tag off your ear…" said the medic, now pouring liberal amounts of alcohol over his ear to sterilize it.

"Damn!" Ressler spun at that.

"Sorry sir. I'll have it out in a jiffy…" Ressler felt pressure, heard a snip right at his ear and then the tag was sitting in the medic's hands. "And there we go sir, all done."

Ressler reached up and took the yellow tag from the medic's hand, both fascinated and horrified by it. He licked his lips and dropped the tag to the ground as the medic placed some sterile tape over his ear, stopping the bleeding.

"Let me take a look at your thumb here, sir." He said, reaching for his left hand.

But Ressler pulled it from his grasp. "Old injury… It's fine." He panted. _Please just...just go away and don't look too closely at me..._

"Are you okay sir…?" Now the medic WAS looking closer, his eyes narrowing as he took in the agent's sweaty, pale appearance.

_Don't. Just don't._

"I'm fine. Please, just…let me be." Ressler almost begged the guy. And when he did pack up his stethoscope and did let him be, he wasn't sure if the medic had listened to him, or realized exactly what was wrong and had backed off.

Either way, he didn't care.

Right now, all he wanted to do was find the nearest hole and crawl into it – after he'd had some pain pills. Yet for some reason that he couldn't explain, even to himself, he had been unable to ask the medic for some pain pills. Just couldn't bring himself to do it. It was something he needed to do in private, to stand at the mirror and berate himself while doing it...and that was a hard habit to break. Pulling his blanket more around his shoulders now, he sat there, almost oblivious to the activity around him. What had happened to him today would come to light. He wouldn't be able to hide this_…drug addiction…_anymore.

He sat there staring blindly at the activity around him, his body aching from head to foot as his thumb throbbed _(whose fault is that?)._ He finally became aware of someone approaching him, and in a daze he looked up.

And froze.

He hadn't even realized she was here.

"Liz? What are you doing here?" He leaned up and away from her, instinctively trying to back up and hide himself from her view.

_Oh my God! _He didn't want her to see him. _Not like this!_

But she had seen. She moved in closer to him as his eyes dropped to her hands - that he now realized were holding onto something carefully, half hidden as she showed only him.

She was holding his pills.

And all he could do was stare at the bottle, then up into her eyes. But then he couldn't help himself and dropped his gaze and reached hungrily for them, taking them from her hand.

_The junkie needs his drugs. Oh, God..._

He gripped them in his right hand, hiding them from view. And he looked at her again and met her eyes. And realized he'd let down the one person that he had never wanted to.

_And damn it, she's looking at me KINDLY._

That was harder than if she'd been angry.

He dropped his gaze and closed his eyes, and now she was sitting beside him. Close by him when all he'd done was let her down.

She knew what he was. _A junkie._

Her arm was on his shoulder now. Soft and warm and safe.

_No. I don't… deserve it…I don't… _

What was left of his carefully built wall around himself came tumbling down as her arm held him. Dropping his head into his hand he couldn't stop the tears now as she leaned into him more. Not saying a word, just being with him.

_Liz…I don't… _Tears fell as he slipped his hand to the back of his neck now, dropping his head further as she sat with him.

And while she sat beside him supporting him as he cried, he held out his hand to her and gave her the pill bottle. He couldn't hold it anymore. Couldn't think about them anymore. Needed to stop taking them right now. She took it, slipping them into her pocket and leaned closer to him now with one arm on his shoulder and the other now holding his empty hand.

And his earlier thought came flooding back. It was the Stewmaker all over again. Only this time he was the one collapsing while she held him up.

"It's going to be okay, Ress… it will be okay…" she whispered gently to him.

And as his tears fell, he wished he could believe her. Because right now, the bottom had just fallen out of his world.

All over again.


	8. Chapter 8 - Night Flight

_You didn't really think I'd just leave Ressler sitting in the back of the ambulance with Liz, did you? Of course not! So it's unknown at this point if the show will have him back to 'normal' next week (Ivan anyone…?), or still feeling the after effects of this. So regardless of what the show will do next with our beautiful suffering agent, I still wanted to follow up with the two of them after he broke down in the ambulance. And I do want to say (after my rant at the beginning of the last chapter!) that while I was frustrated at the gaps in what we got, I do thank the writers for pushing Ressler and Liz together there, just like he needed. In Mako Tanida he brushed Liz off (let's face it, the man was an island) but by this episode, he let her in. And THAT most definitely warmed my Keenler heart!_

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><p>Ressler was feeling very much like he had been slammed into by a truck - that had then come back around for a second hit, just for good measure. But his physical pain almost paled in comparison to what was going through his mind. It had all come crashing down around his ears. Having juggled the pills and work for so long, he almost felt he could get away with it forever. He'd hated it, loathed himself for it, but as time had gone on, he had got very good at it. And he had almost got away with it.<p>

Until he could no longer refill his prescription.

And had been reduced to a strung out junkie breaking his own bones to get his next fix.

And looking down at his splinted thumb, he realized it represented him on a smaller scale - broken and bruised, and in need of support to heal.

And seemingly from nowhere that support was here in the shape of Liz, whose arm was on his shoulder. He leaned into her, the dam having broken as he cried tears of sheer hopelessness.

…_how the hell did it come to this…?_

All those weeks and months of hiding this were over though. And in some small way, that was actually a relief. He couldn't bring himself to look Liz in the eye, but turned his head toward her as he started to control his tears, his voice hitching as he shook.

"…get me out…of here…"

Feeling him quivering under her, she leaned into him. "Come on." And standing, she helped him up, then looped her arm in his as they walked away from the ambulance, leaving the red and blue flashing lights behind them. She'd been aware of Samar glancing over at them while sitting in the ambulance but she didn't go and speak to the Mossad agent. Some things were between …friends… and extended family. And she hadn't been around long enough yet to be a part of this, nor would Ressler want her too close, she knew that. She looked up at her partner as she walked beside him, seeing the lost look in his reddened eyes. She'd seen that look before, sadly. On the day he'd lost Audrey and lost everything in the snow.

And as she looked at him her heart found itself in a familiar place – aching for him.

He didn't really care where they went. Just so long as he was out of sight and somewhere quiet. But as he walked slowly and unsteadily he realized he was heading toward the black jeep that he'd arrived in earlier that day. It seemed a lifetime ago. As he approached it on legs that had almost forgotten how to walk, his stomach lurched again. He leaned forward, hands on his knees and retched and coughed, feeling her rubbing his back until he was able to stand up again.

_I don't deserve your kindness Liz…I don't…but I… I'll take it…_

They reached the jeep and as he stood looking at the passenger door, his thumb throbbed horribly at the memory of just what he'd done to himself in that door. But it was a pain he'd 'earned', and he didn't complain. Liz opened the passenger door for him, picking up his trailing blanket as he sat down heavily inside. Quickly going around to the drivers' side, she climbed in beside him.

"Can I get you anything? Water? Anything…?" She asked him, touching his arm. He shook his head slowly in reply.

"No." _Hell no._ He couldn't bear the thought of anything on his stomach right now.

Laying his head back on the head rest, he closed his eyes, and she looked more closely at him. Even in the semi darkness, she could see how grey he looked. How sick he looked… A far cry from this morning where she'd told him he was 'edgy'. Now she realized why he had been edgy. He'd apparently been without his pain pills for most of the day, and it had led him to…this…

There would be time later to discuss what had happened. For now she was thinking of their next steps. Cooper…and what would happen to Ressler when…or if… this was discovered. But did their boss need to know…? Could Ressler get 'well' before he needed to see Cooper? Her mind was reeling with all the different scenarios.

Ressler's stomach cramped again and he gripped it now, gasping. He felt her hand on his arm again, and looked across at her. _I screwed up… I'm a junkie…and I'm sorry… _And he couldn't stop shaking, and gathered his blanket around him more.

"Let me see if I can really get us out of here…" and she dialed a number on her phone. Ressler didn't even have to ask who she was calling. _Mr Fix it…Reddington._ His head was aching, and he closed his eyes again, leaning back and sighing heavily.

"Dembe, where are you guys?" she said, as the call was answered. "Really? You are?" She looked across at her partner, her hand still on his arm, feeling his shakes increasing. "Can you get us back to DC? Ressler…and I… Ressler and I need to get back…" She didn't elaborate and listened to Dembe as he spoke to Red. "Okay, give us 30 minutes or so and we'll be there." She looked at Ressler worriedly as she hung up her phone.

"They're landing in Sitka right now." She was greeted with a slight nod from her partner. "Let me go see Samar. Wait here."

_I'm not going anywhere Liz…_

As she left the vehicle, he opened his eyes and watched her walking away as she headed toward Samar, who he hadn't even noticed was here. Apparently there were a lot of things he hadn't noticed of late. He felt like crap, and closed his eyes again, shutting out the world around him. The jeep wasn't exactly a hole in the ground that he'd crawled into, but it would do.

Liz was back in a few minutes. "Well, I let her know Red was coming and that she could head out with us if she wanted, but she chose to stay and…help process the scene. She'll head back with some of the other agents later."

Ressler heard the hesitation and nodded at that. _You mean she doesn't want to be around a junkie of an FBI agent…then she can deny all knowledge later… _He decided not to pursue that line of thought.

Liz started the engine and turned and headed up the heavily leafed driveway of the cabin, before driving out onto the road toward the airstrip. Beside her Ressler turned his head away from her, closed his eyes and clung to his blanket, trying not to throw up with the motion of the vehicle.

###

They arrived at the small airfield 20 minutes later, and immediately saw Red's pristine Learjet contrasting starkly to the small single and double engine planes dotting the field. Not for the first time, Ressler wondered at Red's net worth and all of these 'toys' of his.

_And there he is…_ Red was making his way down the steps of the plane, as Liz parked near the jet. Ressler suddenly didn't want to face the man.

_That's going to be a little difficult while sitting on his damn plane._

"Ready?" Liz asked him, and he looked at her, his eyes two pools of dejection. She was well aware he was nervous about being seen like this.

He momentarily closed his eyes in reply, then climbed out of the jeep, clutching his blanket around him. _My security blanket… _He sighed heavily again and with his head down, he followed closely behind Liz to the steps of the plane.

"Donald…" Red stopped him as he approached the plane, placing his hand on his shoulder. Ressler couldn't even look at him, and didn't raise his head. "Glad to see you're still in one piece, my friend." And if he noticed (and how could he miss, really) how bad Ressler looked, he tactfully remained silent on that. But he glanced questioningly at Liz before stepping aside to let Ressler slowly climb the stairs to the jet.

Feeling like his head was going to explode, he slumped down in a seat at the very rear of the plane, his blanket still around his shoulders. He stole a glance at Liz as he did so, before closing his eyes against the overhead lights. Reaching up, she turned off his overhead light for him, for which he was eternally grateful.

He felt something on him now and looked up to see Liz laying a blanket over him as he shook, cocooning him between the two blankets. _Thanks mom…_ And that brought back a memory of that morning when he'd faced off with Chung because he had needed to hit something SO badly right then, and tears suddenly sprang to his eyes.

_I don't deserve your kindness Liz… _And he turned away to the window and closed his eyes as he shook.

Four minutes later he was asleep, his body too hurt and exhausted to do anything else. And as the plane took off, the aurora danced outside the window lighting up the sky again, but this time he wasn't even aware of it.

###

Red was holding the pill bottle that Liz had handed him, twirling it in his fingers.

"These were prescribed today, in Sitka." Red glanced down the plane at the sleeping FBI agent, and shook his head. "How did he get them?"

"I didn't ask him how…he wasn't in much state to ask him anything… And it was filled for 10 tablets. Look how many are left in there." Liz told him, and Red opened the bottle, counting 4 tablets.

"Aaahh, Donald…" he said under his breath, again looked toward Ressler, then recapped the bottle and handed it back to Liz. "And yet even with 6 tablets today, he's clearly in withdrawal. That shows you one of two things. How many he's been needing to take daily to maintain equilibrium, or that these tablets are not nearly as strong as what he's been using."

"Using..." Liz repeated the word, hating to hear it in reference to her partner. "He wasn't himself all day." She told him, remembering Chung's arrest. "Actually, he hasn't been himself for weeks…"

She leaned back in her seat and sighed. Knowing why he hadn't been himself for weeks didn't help. "He didn't take any more pills though and handed these back to me willingly. That's gotta be a good sign though, right…?" She asked Red.

"It shows acknowledgement, definitely, which is a very important first step." He looked at her now. "Lizzie, what are you going to tell Harold?" And he could see by her expression that she had no clue what she was going to tell her boss. "I ask because Donald is going to need some time to…recover…from this. And if Harold doesn't know, then it will need to be away from prying eyes. And that is something I can help with. I can provide that privacy for him."

She smiled humorlessly at him and nodded. "He can't go back to his apartment alone, that's for sure. Plus we don't know how many pills he has stashed there…" She stopped, unable to believe she was discussing her 'by the book' partner. Her boy scout partner…

"Exactly. He's going to need support through this Lizzie." He looked up again toward Ressler, noting the sudden restlessness in the sleeping man, then back at Liz "And right about now, in fact. He's having a nightmare."

Liz turned quickly and looked behind her, got up from her seat and reached Ressler right as he shot awake. His right hand grasped his forehead, the pain in his head accelerating at the sudden movement. Panting, gripping his head, he leaned forward.

"Hey, it's okay…" she told him, not getting too close in case he lashed out at her while still waking. "It was a dream…it's okay…"

He focused on her now, seeing her, yet still seeing his dream. "They were all dead!" he told her, panting. "Sitting around a damn campfire! Dead!" He leaned forward, gripping his head again, gulping in air.

"It was a dream Ress, a nightmare…"

"No! It was real!" he told her, and looked up as Red came to stand by them. "It was real." He repeated to the criminal, trying to catch his breath.

Liz wasn't sure what he was getting at, but Red had an idea, and leaned down to him. "Where were they? Where did you see them Donald?" he asked calmly.

And the fact that the man wasn't telling him it was just a dream helped him calm down a little. "In the forest. I asked if they would help me. But they were dead. All of them. Sick. Demented. Stuffed trophies!"

_And I sat among them! Sat there with them!_

Liz stared at him. What Ressler was saying started to make sense. They had not been able to ascertain the reason the bodies washed ashore were flayed. But if they were used by a taxidermist… She looked at her partner, who was now leaning back in the seat, with closed eyes.

"What else happened in the forest?" Again, Red asked him calmly. He had two reasons for asking. One, he felt the need to hear what Perl had been responsible for. And two, the longer Donald kept talking about the dream/memory, the less likelihood he was to retreat back to the quiet, ashamed Ressler who had come on board. And right now, that was helping the man more than anything.

And Ressler remembered it all clearly, and with his eyes still closed he spoke again. "I was hunted by a giant with a crossbow." And something occurred to him then, and he grimaced in disgust shook his head slowly, looking at both of them now. "Because an arrow is cleaner than a shotgun. To protect the… pelt."

_Oh God… _He looked away and swallowed hard.

"A giant?" Red prompted, and as Liz started to speak, knowing who Ressler was referring to, Red placed a hand on her shoulder to quiet her. He wanted this from Donald.

"Guy had to be 7 foot tall…and strong… crazy strong…" He told them now, remembering being held up to the tree. And remembering what his weapon was to escape that. The arrow that had killed Chung.

_Chung died because I stopped him running away!_

Liz saw him remembering something now, his eyes darting. "What…what else?"

He was back in the forest, listening to Chung calling him a junkie. Lunging at the man, pinning him to a tree, denying he was a junkie. And that very action had resulted in Chung's death. He dropped his head now, sighing heavily.

Red knew he'd got all he was going to get out of the agent for now. He patted Liz's shoulder, and then returned to the front of the plane, leaving her beside her shaking partner.

"What is it…?" Liz moved to the chair across from him, leaning forward to him.

He looked up at her, and again she almost recoiled at the desperation in his eyes. "I found Chung…he was being hunted too." he told her, and looked away. "And my…condition…got him killed." He turned into the window at that, sighing, holding his aching forehead.

He wanted to ask her for his pills back. He needed to take them. But when he looked back up at her to ask, he couldn't do it. He couldn't let her down again. So he turned back to the window and looked outside at the inky blackness out there, feeling it mirror his own heart.

She didn't want him to shut down on her, not again. Not like after Mako Tanida, so spoke up again. "What happened out there Ress…?"

_We were hunted like animals, Liz..._

And suddenly he needed to get it all out. To let someone else know how bad it had been out there. And in telling her that, he could hold off for a little while longer on discussing…_the fact that I'm a junkie…_ He turned to her, and looked her in the eye. "When I got to the ranch, I thought it was deserted. But then an old woman showed up, and then her son Pete Kincaid." He was surprised he even remembered the guy's name.

"And then I heard something, and went to his 4 wheeler…" He looked away, remembering. "He said it was a goat. But it wasn't a goat Liz. It was…it was Chung. In a dog crate, tagged like an animal, in the back of that vehicle."

She looked at him in horror, and let him continue.

"Next thing I knew Kincaid slammed his fist down onto my broken thumb, and then knocked me out cold." He moved his thumb away when she glanced down at it. _Damn…_ He had just revealed that his thumb was broken before he'd been hunted. And at the confused look in her eyes, could see she'd picked up on that immediately.

_Tell her…no point holding back now…_

Bringing his thumb back into view, he looked at her. Telling Liz was almost harder than slamming the door on his thumb. "I broke my own thumb, Liz… I chose to break it deliberately…because I..." He couldn't finish and looked down then, closing his eyes against the look in hers.

Realization dawned. "That's how you got your prescription filled today…aaaww, Ress..." And instinctively, she reached out to his hand, cupping it gently in hers as she held his bruised and broken thumb, feeling both appalled and heart broken that he'd been reduced to doing that.

_Liz…don't… I don't deserve…_

And suddenly he couldn't say anything else as tears welled up in his eyes again, seeing her small hand cradle his. And she was so kind and gentle and understanding that he didn't pull his hand away.

"You're not alone in this any more…" she told him, and he nodded to her. And he couldn't find the words. Couldn't trust his voice anymore.

_I'm so sorry Liz…_

And his other hand came up and he placed it over hers, unable to look at her as his tears fell.


	9. Chapter 9 - Lean on Me

_So, I just can't stop thinking about Episode 2x06! Our poor Ressler hitting rock bottom... And I looked at the promo pics from Episode 7 and he's back at work (...in typical Blacklist fashion). So I figure he had to have gone through some sort of detox in this week - assuming he's coming off the drugs! And I kept thinking that if he's back at work in 2x07, then Cooper probably doesn't know what happened. Because a drug addicted/in recovery FBI agent would not be back at work and out in the field IF his superiors knew. So the answer was obvious, of course - I knew just who could provide the required rehab resources for those first critical days and then the follow up care! (And I normally wait for the episode and fill in the gaps – so yeah, I'm pre-empting this one! So I could be TOTALLY wrong here, but hey, I'm running with it!)_

* * *

><p>The city lights outside the plane window looked beautiful from afar. Or so Ressler had always thought. It was one of those things that wasn't cool to mention to anyone, but he'd always liked the look of the city at night from the air. From above you couldn't see the filth, dirt and rottenness that pervaded the city. All you saw was the beauty of it. But right now, all the lights meant that he was coming in to land in DC after leaving Sitka, and his real challenge was about to begin. All they meant to him now was that the relative 'safety' inside this jet was coming to an end.<p>

He was leaning against the window, unable to stop shaking and trying to get his mind off what had gone down in this horrendous day. It had started normally enough. He'd got up, got showered, dressed, drank coffee, went for his pills - except there were no pills. Standing at the pharmacy telling the woman (the very unimpressed woman) that his pills had been stolen from his car was not a good start to the day. Having her refuse to refill – replace – the prescription set the scene for what was to come. And even he could not have imagined it would have spiraled downhill so fast, so depressingly…and with so much physical and emotional pain.

Stealing yet another glance at his broken and splinted thumb, he swallowed hard and closed his eyes momentarily. Turning his attention again to what was outside the window was his best option right now. He saw the lights of the smaller towns below him gradually grow and become larger towns. Their lights dotted the landscape. Until the white and yellow glow on the horizon showed him DC was mere minutes away. And he didn't want to land. He didn't want to face the world. Face Cooper. Face the consequences. Yet he didn't want to stay in this horrible limbo either. Sitting here, shaking, cramping and sweating and aware that Liz was watching him with deep concern… _and deep sadness, that's hard to miss_… He didn't know what to do next.

As they began their descent, Liz looked into his dark, dilated eyes as she felt the plane dropping lower. It was impossible to miss how he was feeling. It radiated off him as waves of painful shaking and cramping overtook him. But it was more than that. A deep desperation was evident behind those dark pools that were his eyes. He hadn't spoken in a couple of hours. He'd retreated into himself after he had told her he had deliberately broken his own thumb, putting up a shield around him. And right now she couldn't penetrate that. And maybe right now it was the only way he was coping. So she stayed right outside his shield, ready and waiting to hold him up the moment it fell away.

The plane came in to land, bounced once on the runway, and taxied to a stop a couple of minutes later. Ressler was still leaning against the window, still surrounded in his two blankets, and unable to get up. He became aware of Red standing beside him, leaning on the seat to talk to him. He focused on the man through his headache that was pounding in his skull, throbbing with every beat of his heart.

"Donald…how are you doing, my friend?" The answer was obvious as Red looked at the grey, sweaty agent and his huge, dark eyes, but Red asked anyway.

_You really don't want me to answer that..._

Ressler didn't answer, but kept looking at Red. So he continued, knowing he at least had the agent's attention. "I've made a few phone calls. And forgive me for overstepping my boundaries, but this was done in your…best interest. It is obvious you are in trouble and need help. I have the resources to provide that help." He let that sink in seeing Resslers eyes narrow a little.

_Of course you do…_

"You will stay at the house I'm currently house sitting." He looked at Liz, "and you too. Bring that hound of yours and get out of that rancid motel for a few days." He didn't wait for Liz to answer and turned back to Ressler. "The house is plenty big enough for you to have privacy, yet not be alone. Because right now, Donald, you cannot go back to your apartment and be alone, understand?" He looked at the agent, waiting for his response.

Ressler looked down, then across at Liz who was pleading with her eyes for him to understand.

_I'm a junkie… I do understand…_

He nodded, and heard Liz let out the breath she'd been holding. He looked back up at Reddington, knowing full well he was letting the man take over for him. In much the same way he'd asked Liz to get him out of the ambulance and surrounding area, letting her lead him, now Red was doing the same on a larger scale. And right now while he couldn't function, he placed himself in their hands. It was a huge step for him, but ironically, he was feeling SO bad he didn't see it. All he felt was a desperate desire to find that deep hole he'd been looking for all evening and finally crawl into it. And he knew with absolute certainty, that Red was the only one who could provide that deep hole and private place to crawl into.

"I've cleared everything with Harold. He knows nothing of this. As far as he's concerned, we're following up on a case I need both of you for. He's not happy, but he'll get over it. So you do not need to concern yourself with work." He told them and Ressler nodded slightly again. The pain in his head was worsening, and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open in the light now.

"Splendid. Then let's get you up and out of here Donald." He looked at Liz and they both helped Ressler to his feet. Shakily, he made his way off the jet, still surrounded in his blue blanket as he climbed into the back seat of the shiny, black car that Dembe was now standing beside.

_Red and his 'toys'…_

Feeling Liz sitting beside him, he closed his eyes against the city lights as they drove. Now the lights didn't look beautiful. Now all they did was hurt his eyes and increase the pounding in his head with their brightness.

###

They arrived at the mansion about twenty minutes later, pulling up in front of a large red brick home of immense size. As Dembe parked, Ressler wasn't paying attention as Red told him who lived here, why he wasn't here right now, and why Red had asked to stay here.

_You're house sitting. I get it…_

With an effort, he climbed out of the car, leaning against the door unsteadily. He felt Liz come and loop her arm in his as they entered the house, but he could barely open his eyes now against the pain in his head. He leaned on her, alarming himself with just how unsteady he was feeling. His breath was coming in sharp pants now, and he could barely walk.

_Liz! …I can't…can't… _Ressler felt his knees about to give way.

"Red!" she called out to him and he turned back to look at Liz and Ressler.

He quickly took Ressler's other arm as he was about to collapse, steadying the shaking agent, feeling his weight leaning on him as he helped support him. Red led them to a large guest room, and if Ressler had been able to pay attention, he'd have seen it was almost bigger than his entire apartment.

Feeling Ressler swaying even more, they quickly sat him down on a recliner. He leaned back, panting, shaking uncontrollably, the pain in his head reaching unbearable proportions now. Liz crouched down beside him, afraid he was about to pass out.

"He can stay in here. Lizzie, there is a room across the hall for you if you like, or there are rooms in the other wing." Red told her, looking worriedly at the agent.

She nodded to him, not taking her eyes off her shaking, pale partner. Across the hall was perfect. Seeing how much pain Ressler was in, she looked up at Red, but he was already talking.

"Don't worry, I have someone coming who will help him through these symptoms Lizzie. She will be here momentarily." And right on cue, Dembe appeared in the doorway, showing the woman inside.

"Aaahh, Mr Kaplan, come on in." Red motioned to the primly dressed, slender woman to enter. She nodded to Liz as she entered, and then turned her attention to the trembling, sweating man in the recliner.

"Goodness. I'm glad you called me." Her shoes clipped on the tiled floor as she strode to her patient on the recliner.

As Liz stood to step aside to make room for Mr Kaplan, Ressler's arm shot out and he grabbed her hand.

_Don't go._

He startled Liz with how fast he moved. He startled himself too – and caused the pain in his head to increase. But across from them, Red smiled.

Liz turned to look down at him. His shield had dropped. Suddenly, he was back. Looking into her eyes desperately as tears sprang to them, shaking so hard, he spoke to her. "My head…Liz…my head is going to…explode…"

Ressler clung to Liz's hand as Mr Kaplan leaned down to talk to him. "Hello deary. I see you're very much under the weather. I can rectify that for you." She looked away from Ressler, then up to Red.

"He's filthy. Can't we get him cleaned up first?" She said in her clipped, prim voice.

"Kate, the man's had a very hard day. We can get him cleaned up later. For now, please see to the pain that he is very obviously in." Red told her firmly.

Liz could have hugged Red right then.

She squeezed Ressler's hand as he looked up at her in confusion. She leaned down, and heard him whisper "Mr…?" She smiled and nodded, reassuring him. He looked warily at Mr Kaplan as she turned back to him.

_Mr…? I don't get it._

The woman was addressing Ressler now. "How long since you had your last dose? I need to know how long you have been in withdrawal." She was very business like and to the point. Ressler actually welcomed that. He didn't have the time or the energy for chit chat. He didn't even have to think about when he'd had his last two OxyContin.

"11pm last night…" he panted. Liz looked at him, and added, "Plus 6 of these this afternoon…" Liz handed Mr Kaplan the prescription Ressler had filled in Sitka. She looked at them, nodded, then tossed the bottle into her case.

_She took… I had to work…hard…for those…_

"Very good. You're in full withdrawal, though that is very obvious by your appearance. I couldn't give you this drug if you weren't. I have some Buprenorphine here for you, deary. Now, do not swallow it. Place it under your tongue and let it dissolve." She reached into her bag and produced a pill bottle, and handed Ressler one pill, placing it in his left hand – since his right hand was still shakily gripping Liz's hand. She looked at the broken thumb. "I'll clean that up and resplint it for you too."

Ressler looked at the pill in his hand, unable to concentrate on everything the woman was telling him. He didn't know what it was. What was she giving him…? He looked up at Liz, who understood his hesitancy in an instant.

"Explain to him what it is. How it will help him." She asked Mr Kaplan, who seemed surprised that she would even need to do that. "Very well." And she proceeded to explain to Ressler that this medication was used in opiate withdrawal as a substitute for the narcotic, to reduce the symptoms and would calm the shakes and pain. That he would need to be on it for a while, then gradually taper off it.

"I can't get... addicted to this too…?" he asked her. She actually gave him a little straight mouthed smile at that and assured him he would not. "This will help you. It's 6mg, and I will give you another 6mg in one hour. Place it under your tongue and let it dissolve."

"You can trust her Donald, I assure you." Red encouraged.

_Okay… can his day get any weirder…_

With another look at Liz who squeezed his hand in reassurance, Ressler did as he was told, grimacing at the bitter taste in his mouth as the pill dissolved under his tongue.

###

Twenty minutes later, Ressler began to feel the effects of the drug. And it simultaneously relieved and terrified him. He was feeling so much like he did when he was on Oxy he was positive she was not helping him and had only doped him up again.

_Oh my God! She lied to me!_

He stared up at Mr Kaplan, "What did you do? It feels like…what did you give me?! What-"

She interrupted him. "Yes, it feels like the opiates you've been on. I can only assure you that these meds are not your drug of choice. Lean back and let it help your symptoms and I'll give you another one in…" she checked her watch, "forty minutes. By then you will be feeling much better."

He wasn't entirely convinced. He felt like she'd just doped him up again to get him feeling better and the real withdrawal agony would start all over again later. But the other half of him trusted that she might actually be doing what she said and was helping him. But it wasn't her he trusted. He didn't know this woman.

What stunned him was that it was Red he trusted. Implicitly. He glanced across at the man, who was sitting calmly on a couch on the other side of the room.

His shakes began to lessen as he leaned back on the chair again just as she'd told him to. Ten minutes later, the pain was starting to ease in his muscles. His breathing calmer now, he felt better than he had in hours. Even the edge was dropping off his headache.

He gently released Liz's hand as he felt better, looking up at her, almost feeling the need to apologize that he wasn't holding onto her anymore. She simply smiled and squeezed his shoulder. Just like she'd done after they got back from Warsaw. And there was even more meaning in it this time.

More friendship. More concern. More caring.

_There's more water under the bridge between us now_…_more...history..._ And he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But the more he thought about it, he decided it was a good thing.

###

After one hour, he couldn't believe how much better he was doing. And when Mr Kaplan gave him his second dose, he didn't hesitate and placed the pill under his tongue. Even the bitter taste didn't bother him quite so much.

The woman leaned down to him again and took his left hand in hers to look at his broken thumb. With the new meds in his system, he was able to let her clean up and resplint his thumb with very little pain, noting how efficiently she did it. He looked at her as she was bent over his hand, and then he looked up at Liz, raising his eyebrows. Liz smiled at him. Mr Kaplan was an enigma, as Ressler was finding out first hand.

All done with his hand, Mr Kaplan was in front of him again, looking into his eyes and studying him. "Very good. You're responding well." She stood up after closing up her bag. "In another 30 minutes or so you'll be feeling well enough to get up and shower. Which I suggest you do as..."

"Kate…" said Red, and Mr Kaplan looked briefly at him and nodded.

She faced Ressler again. "I will be back in the morning and give you another dose. In the meantime, get as much rest as you can. You may be feeling better, but you still need rest." She picked up her bag and turned to leave, her heels clicking on the floor.

"Thank you." Ressler told her, and she turned back to him. "You are most welcome, deary." And she smiled a very brief, businesslike smile and then left the room, with Red showing her out.

###

Apparently the person whom Red was house sitting from was about the same size as Ressler, as he found out when Red opened the closet to reveal clothes that would fit him.

"So, to keep Mr Kaplan happy, go get cleaned up Donald." Red smiled as he and Liz left the room, letting Ressler get up to take a shower.

He stood under the warm water scrubbing the grime off him, which was a little more difficult with a broken thumb. Mr Kaplan had been right, he was filthy. _But then sweating and running through a forest will do that… Stabbing a giant and getting his blood all over you will do that…_ After washing his hair, he got done and stepped out into the bathroom. Out of habit, he was drawn to the mirror, almost afraid to look. But when he did, he was surprised. His eyes were still half dilated and he looked very pale and tired, but on the whole he was much better than he'd expected.

He found some track pants and a t-shirt and got dressed. Entering the bedroom he was about to sit in the recliner again when there was a knock at the door.

"Ress, can I come in?" called Liz.

He walked over and opened the door and both of them paused. She almost felt like saying "I didn't know where else to go" and he almost heard it. She smiled at the unspoken memory between them as he stepped aside to let her in. Just like he had done on that night.

"You look more like yourself." She said, noting his clean shaven face and combed back hair. He nodded, standing by the half open door.

"I know you're tired and need rest…but I wanted to check in with you before you turned in for the night…" She looked up at him, seeing that he really was doing so much better. She sent a silent thanks to Mr Kaplan for that.

As Ressler went to close the door, he saw something small, brown and decidedly scruffy run into the room. He stepped back, surprised.

"Hudson! I told you to stay!" Liz looked up at Ressler in apology as her dog pranced in front of her. "Sorry! Let me put him up."

But Hudson had other ideas. As Ressler headed for the recliner, really feeling the need to sit down again, the little dog followed him. He looked at it, seeing the beady little eyes and excited expression on the animal. "Hey there, little dude. I think your mom wants you to go with her…"

Liz stopped and smiled. She'd never heard that soft tone from her partner before as he spoke to her dog - her dog who was now apparently ignoring her in favor of her partner. As Ressler dropped tiredly into the recliner, the dog sat at his feet, looking up at him in adoration.

Ressler looked across at Liz. "I seem to have a fan."

"Apparently so!" She looked at Ressler then, seeing how tired he was. His shakes had gone and he was no longer sweating, but he was still pale and exhausted. They could talk later. Right now he needed rest. "Why don't you get in bed and I'll let you get some sleep." She encouraged him.

He nodded, not even arguing with her and hauled himself out of the recliner. He hesitated a moment before he pulled the blankets down, then suddenly didn't mind that Liz was right there as he climbed into the bed. He plumped up his pillows and lay on his side, looking across at her. He then looked down at her dog, who was now worshiping him from below the bed, tail wagging as his little eyes shone up at him.

Ressler suddenly grinned at the little dog, who was now standing on his hind legs and leaning on the bed. And he realized that in this entire day, this funny little dog had been the only one who had managed to put a smile on his face.

And it felt good.

His day had been terrible. _Understatement._ It had been a living nightmare. It had been filled with pain, helplessness, desperation and…_fear_. He had needed to lean on others to get him through it. He looked up at Liz again.

_I needed to lean on her…and Red too..._

"Liz…I'm sorry. About…all this…" he told her tiredly, as she came and stood by him.

"I know, and it will be okay. We'll get through this." She told him kindly.

_We… she said 'we'll get through this…'_

He smiled at her, and felt his eyes drooping. She went and turned the light off in the room, and was about to leave.

"…stay…" he told her sleepily, and she turned and headed back to the recliner and sat down near him. Hudson was no longer on the floor. And when she looked to see where he'd gone, she saw him on the bed, approaching Ressler from the other side, having jumped up on a chair to get on the bed. The little dog moved around him, and lay down contentedly in front of Ressler, leaning against him.

And Liz smiled as Ressler, more asleep than awake, reached out and held her dog gently with his hand, his broken thumb nestled in the little dog's coat.


	10. Chapter 10 - Hotel Reddington

_So yeah, my pre-empting on the previous chapter was a bit off the mark, but I SOO wanted to see Ressler and Mr Kaplan together so I had to take that risk that it may not fit with the direction the show went! So this is just a 'bridge' chapter to fit with what I wrote in Chapter 9 to lead into what we saw in Episode 2x07 which will be in my next chapter. So in that sense it's entirely outside the show, but leading into writing about that awesome 'hint of Keenler' episode we got this week! So bear with me on this chapter, as it's really just 'filler'._

* * *

><p>When Ressler woke up the morning after his…<em>little adventure in Sitka, Alaska<em>…he wasn't sure what was going on for a moment. There was something leaning on him. Something warm and furry and glancing down he saw the little scruffy dog against him. And when he lifted his gaze he saw Liz asleep in the recliner, buried under a blanket. And as he focused more around the room, it all came back to him.

_Aaahh, yeah… Hotel Reddington._

As he moved to get up, he woke the dog who looked at him in a daze, appearing to get his bearings. He spoke softly to the animal. "Yeah…you and me both, little dude... Confusing night…"

He climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Liz and padded over to the bathroom, noticing how…_raw_…his body felt. Like it had gone 12 rounds in the ring with a prize fighter - and lost miserably. His thumb was aching, the throbbing having dropped to a much more tolerable level though. _Or maybe that's the new 'dope but not dope' pills I'm on… _Drawn to the mirror, he was relieved to see blue eyes this morning, albeit a little bloodshot. And a little color in his face. _Always a good sign…_

As he came out of the bathroom, glancing at Liz and seeing she was still asleep, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, he found Mr Kaplan out there, looking like she'd just stepped out of a Mary Poppins movie with her coat, bag and umbrella.

"Good morning deary. May I come in?" He hesitated a moment looking at her, then remembered his manners and stepped aside to let her in. She entered the room and then stopped when she saw Hudson at his feet.

"I see." She said primly. He hadn't even noticed the dog was there, wagging its tail and in full adoration mode looking up at him.

_I must smell like dog chum..._

Mr Kaplan ignored Hudson and turned back to Ressler. "How are you feeling?" She studied his face as she asked, then continued before he could even answer with his standard 'I'm fine' response. "Though I can see your eyes are no longer dilated. And you look more rested. Well done. I have another dose for you here."

Leaning down to her bag, she retrieved a pill bottle then handed one small pill to Ressler. He held it in his right hand, looking at it then clenched it in his fist and looked back at her.

_Great. I'm replacing one habit with another._

"Remember, place it under your tongue and let it dissolve." She instructed, and he reluctantly did as she said, not happy with where this was going.

###

After Mr Kaplan had left, he began hunting up some different clothes to wear and was surprised to find his own clothes hanging in the closet, clean and pressed_. Can't complain about the service at Hotel Red…_ He also found the blue blanket he'd had around him, freshly folded and clean. He sighed as memories flooded back of him sitting in that blanket. Sitting in the ambulance…and Liz approaching him with the pills.

_Don't go there._

He exhaled heavily and looked down, seeing Hudson beside him looking expectantly up at him. "You want this…?" he softly asked the dog, "Well you can have it…" then placed the blanket on the floor by the bed. He smiled as Hudson immediately rearranged it then curled up on it. "Yeah, I agree, that's a much better use for it."

He took a quick shower and after dressing in the bathroom, he looked at himself in the mirror – and felt sick. Wearing the same clothes he'd worn in Sitka with all that had happened to him there was surreal. _They're just clothes. Get over it. _Telling himself that, he walked back into the bedroom to find Liz awake and folding up the blanket she'd used.

"You okay…?" she asked, and he hesitated a second before nodding.

"Yeah, just… nothing." He said, shaking it off.

"You feel like breakfast? Dembe just came by and said it's ready." She asked him, and smiled at his reaction as he screwed up his face and groaned at that.

"Just try, okay?" she prompted and he nodded, then followed her out of the room, hoping like hell he'd keep his breakfast down.

###

When Mr Kaplan knocked on his door the following morning, he let her in but he had questions ready. He'd sat up half the night unable to sleep and kept returning to the same conclusion. Taking pills to avoid taking pills was not going to cut it. He was done with that. He needed to stop…_flopping about_… and start being useful again. He needed to get back on his game.

Mr Kaplan knew none of that. She reached into her bag to retrieve his dose and gave him one pill. He took it from her, but did not place it in his mouth.

"I will leave the medication with Raymond, and he can choose how he wishes to dispense it to you each day." She told him, all businesslike this morning.

_Yeah…about that… _

"How long?" He asked her, wanting to know more about this medication. He'd been far too out of it the first night to really listen to her. "Because I feel like I'm just replacing one addiction with another, and…"

"A few weeks, maybe a few months. Until you will no longer feel the cravings to take more of your drug of choice and can safely taper off these." She answered sharply, interrupting him.

"What happens if I don't take them, now that I've…" _Totally wigged out and gone cold turkey… _

Again, she interrupted. "I would not advise that. You will need the assistance this medication gives you to help ease the cravings your brain will still have. You may feel better physically, but your brain will still crave the opiates."

He looked down at the woman silently. In the clear light of day he was fully aware it was these new meds that were making him feel better, but he couldn't take pills each day to stop him taking his drug. And even worse, now he'd need to go to his supplier …Red…to get them. That was too junkie-like for him. Too…street thug…

_I'm still on the pill train…and I'm getting it off it right now._

She could see where he was going with this, and sighed. "I really would not advise an addict to come off these and try and do this themselves."

_I need to handle this myself._

He nodded, not liking what he was hearing, but still looked at her squarely. "I understand. But I will keep this pill and if I need it I will take it and resume this treatment."

_I am damn well going to do this without more drugs. _

She looked at him, about to say something, then closed her mouth and grimaced as she spoke under her breath. "As obstinate as Raymond said you were."

"Thank you." He told her, giving her his half smile. Because right now, he needed to be obstinate. Right now he needed to be as stubborn as he could be – with himself.

And in reply, she gave him a look that he couldn't help but feel Liz would have been proud of (and would likely steal for her own collection). Shaking her head, she picked up her bag and moved to the door, which he opened for her.

He looked at the small woman. "I do thank you for helping me though. Honestly, I do." He told her quietly as she left, and she surprised him by turning back and placing her small hand on his chest. "You be careful, deary."

And she left, leaving him silently watching her walk away, her heels clipping on the tiled floor of the hallway.

###

As he stood in the open doorway, he looked across at Liz's room, then went and knocked on her door. Standing in the hallway he looked up and down it, wondering how anyone needed a house as big as this. And how the hell did Red end up house sitting places like this? Apparently everyone the man knew was ridiculously wealthy or… He suddenly decided the less he knew about Red's living arrangements, the better.

Liz opened the door and smiled at him, letting him in. Entering her room, he was greeted by a little brown, scruffy streak that then shadowed his every move.

"Hey, little dude." He said softly to the dog at his feet

"Seriously, what have you done to my dog?" she grinned, looking at how her dog abandoned her the second he saw Ressler.

"What can I say, I have a magnetic personality." He deadpanned, then followed her out to the balcony.

She resumed sitting at the table while she poured him a coffee as he sat down across from her. The balcony overlooked the back of the house, over the immense, perfectly manicured gardens.

He turned to her, sipping his coffee, which was thankfully sitting just fine on his stomach. "Liz, we need to get back to work. This…vacation, whatever.. is fine in theory, but we need to get back in." He looked at her over the rim of his cup. "I need to get back." he emphasized.

"Are you ready for that though?" she asked him, looking him up and down, assessing him. "You've had a rough time of it Ress…in so many ways. Why not give yourself a day or two more?" Her blue eyes looked into his and while they were no longer dark pools of despair, they were not his normal calm, cool blue. The eyes are the windows to the soul, she thought, and right now, his soul is battered and bruised…

"Listen, I was working before and feeling way worse than I do right now. Call Cooper and tell him our 'job' with Red is over and we're heading back later today." He wasn't good at just sitting around. And as if to prove that point, he stood and slowly paced around the large balcony, coffee cup in hand.

"Okay, if you're sure, I'll call him." She answered, hoping that was the right decision.

He approached her and leaned on the brick balustrade, putting his coffee cup beside him. She saw him struggle with something else before he began to speak.

"I told Mr Kaplan that I wasn't going to take her pills anymore…" He looked at her as she sighed and shook her head. "I know Liz, but I need to do this on my own. I need to know that I am the one who overcomes this." He ran his hand across the back of his neck, and stood up, looking out over the gardens.

"I understand that, but you just said you want to return to work. And what happens when the effect of these pills in your system wears off? Because you know it will, and you will be extremely vulnerable at that point." She said worriedly, picking up her coffee cup and coming to lean on the balcony beside him.

He looked sideways at her, seeing her turn to meet his eyes. "Then we'll find out how strong I really am, won't we?" He told her, and she shook her head in concern again.

"I don't like this at all. If you're not going to take Mr Kaplan's…rehab…then you're going to need help in another way. Like Dr… oh don't look at me like that..." He had rolled his eyes at her and grimaced, knowing full well she was going to say 'Dr Friedman'.

"I'm not doing that Liz. You know that. I have zero confidence in that woman to help me." He turned away, leaning his back on the balustrade again, sighing heavily. "Besides, I don't think she likes me." He added, trying to lighten up a little.

"I can't imagine why, you turn and run every time you see her." She smiled, knowing what he was doing as he turned and leaned his elbows on the balustrade again, leaning comfortably beside her.

"Oh, I'm not that bad, Liz." He smiled, looking down at the gardens. Below them they spotted Red coming out of the house, newspaper and cup of coffee in hand. But not in a mug like their coffees. His was in a civilized cup and saucer. As he sat at the outside table, he saw the two of them on the second floor balcony above him, and nodded in greeting before opening his newspaper.

Neither of them caught the small smile that crept across Red's features when he saw Donald looking much better this morning, and in company with Liz.

Ressler turned back to Liz. "So how long are we going to stay here…at Hotel Reddington? Because this is…kinda weird..."

_And yet it also feels…safe... _

Out of his own environment, this break was giving him time to take stock, to settle down and rethink things and contemplate where he went from here. Because Red was right about one thing. The thought of returning to his empty apartment alone, with all is memories and temptations was filling him with unease.

"I don't think he set a time frame. He's letting you decide that." She told him kindly, smiling at him.

"Okay, well I will need to get some clothes and stuff from my apartment though ready for work today…" He looked down, his eyes darting. He was fine with the idea of returning to work. It had always been where his heart lay. Where he needed to be to …escape… It was his apartment that he had problems in.

She caught the look and put her hand on his arm. "Then I will come with you while you do that, so you won't be alone there."

_She nailed it… of course she did… _He looked at her, and she caught the brief flicker of relief in his eyes.

"Thank you…" He looked ruefully at her. "For this, and for…Sitka…" He sighed and looked across at the gardens, trying not to think about what had happened to him in Alaska.

The memory of how broken he was in the back of the ambulance and the flight back came flooding back to her as she stood beside him with her hand on his arm. He wasn't trembling anymore. Wasn't shaking or cramping, as the physical need had worn off. But she was concerned. He was still an addict. The compulsion would still be there when Mr Kaplan's meds wore off.

And the crash would come, she knew that. He still needed help, even though he wanted to do it his way and overcome this by himself. But there was no way she was letting him do this on his own like he thought. She'd make it appear to him that he was doing it by himself – but she'd stand in the wings, watching and waiting.

Ready to catch him if he fell.


	11. Chapter 11 - Under Control

_I loved Episode 2x07 – we finally got the first real glimpse of Keenler! But before I get to that wonderful scene with them fleeing the hospital, I wanted to set the scene with what I think 'should' have happened (or at least what I can imagine happened) when Ressler returned to work after Sitka and Red's 'mission'._

* * *

><p>Ressler estimated they had been back in the Post Office 43 seconds before Cooper appeared on the railing above them, calling both of them to his office.<p>

_Here we go…_

Each carrying the bag they'd taken to Alaska, Liz called up to their boss. "Yes sir, we'll just put our gear up and…" she didn't get to finish her sentence.

"Now, Agent Keen. Bring your bags with you." Cooper insisted before turning on his cane and walking back to his office.

They shared a glance, before Liz stepped onto the stairs with Ressler close behind. Entering Cooper's office, he motioned to them to sit, then began before they'd barely got settled.

"I trust your…mission…with Reddington was successful?" He said it as a statement more than a question. Ressler resisted the urge to glance at Liz. Liz did likewise and kept her eyes on Cooper.

"Yes sir." They said in unison, which suddenly struck Ressler as funny and for a second he suppressed the urge to smile at their joint effort to appear 'normal' in front of their boss.

_No, that didn't look suspicious. Not at all._

Cooper was no fool. He put his pen on the desk and leaned back in his chair, looking at his two subordinates. "Reddington made it clear that this was something outside the Bureau that he required your services on. He reminded me…in no uncertain terms…that this was to be expected under the terms of his…alliance…with us from time to time." He looked at each of them, seeing no reaction and leaned forward. "Do either of you care to share what went down on this…mission?"

"No sir." They both chimed in together, and this time Ressler was so sure he was going to smile that he quickly squeezed his broken thumb to stop himself. And he really wasn't sure why he found it humorous.

_Must be the 'dope that's not dope'._

Cooper regarded each of them, narrowing his eyes. "I see. Then I suggest you get back to work." Each of them rose quickly – too quickly – from their chairs and grabbed their bags.

"Agent Ressler. A moment please." said Cooper as he and Liz turned to leave the Assistant Director's office.

Their backs to their boss, Ressler froze for a second as he shot a side glance at Liz. She looked at him a split second, then left the Directors office. Ressler turned back to his boss, his face the expressionless mask that he'd perfected. The one he could paint on, given a second or two, that hid the whirling emotions underneath.

"Sir?" he asked Cooper, as his boss motioned for him to take a seat again.

"Agent Ressler, something has been brought to my attention, that I would like to discuss with you."

_Oh my God… _

"Sir?" he repeated, dreading what was coming next.

_He knows…_

"As an FBI agent, there are times that stress in the field can get…overwhelming, shall we say. We each have different ways of dealing with it." Said Cooper, leaning back in his chair as he looked at Ressler.

_Aaahh, hell… _

He sat silently in front of his boss, not willing to offer anything that would dig his own grave just yet.

"And sometimes we need help dealing with those situations, wouldn't you agree?" said Cooper, studying his agent sitting silently in front of him.

_I'm screwed..._

"Perhaps…" offered Ressler, starting to look for that hole that he could crawl into again.

_He knows I've been…using._

Cooper leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his desk and looked closely at his lead agent. Ressler kept his mask firmly in place, but was now being betrayed by the sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Agent Ressler, it has come to my attention that you may have had a problem in Alaska." Said Cooper, looking at him pointedly.

__Shit.__ He looked silently at his boss.

Cooper could see that Ressler wasn't going to give him anything, so plowed on. "You are aware that the Bureau has resources available to agents who sometimes have… problems."

_You mean agents who wig out and break their own thumbs? We have resources for THAT?_

"I am aware of that, sir." He replied, amazed at how even his voice was while his brain was screaming _he knows you're a freaking addict!_

'Even the strongest agents, such as yourself can get overwhelmed at times, and I want you to know that there is no…shame… in becoming compromised after what you went through." Cooper told him kindly.

Ressler sat still as a rock, almost to the point he wasn't breathing. _I need to tell him…be up front with it. Maybe that will make it go easier…_

"Sir…yes, I was compromised… I am-" he started, when Cooper held up his hand and interrupted.

"I understand from another agent on scene that you were quite distressed after your ordeal. I have always known you to be calm under fire. Almost to the point of being emotionless, in fact. So it does concern me a little that you were so affected by this case that it reduced you to…tears."

_Wait. What?_ Ressler stared at his boss.

_So we're NOT talking about me being a junkie…?! _

His feeling of discomfort and confusion was genuine, as he looked down, which helped reinforce Cooper's case immensely.

"Don..." said Cooper, in a tone that brought Ressler's head up warily.

_Don? Oh... It's an 'Elizabeth' conversation…_

"I know you have had a very difficult time since losing your fiancé. I just want to remind you that Dr Friedman is always available for appointments, and to reassure you that my door is always open…if you would rather just…talk."

_Um…_

Ressler was squirming a little under one of the 'rules of manhood' – that manly men don't talk about being emotional in the field - or any place else for that matter. But he also felt incredibly relieved. _Far better to be thought of as being 'emotional' than a junkie…_

Seizing his chance to end the conversation, he nodded and put on the best grateful face he could muster. "Thank you, sir… I'll… keep that in mind."

_Now let me get the hell out of here._

"Very well. Then I'll let you get back to it then." Said Cooper, dismissing him with a small smile and a nod. Ressler stood, reached down for his overnight bag and briskly walked out the office, trying not to exhale until Cooper's door was closed. He went down the stairs, his mind reeling.

_The good news is he doesn't know I'm an addict. _

_The bad news is he thinks I'm a cry baby. _

_Shit. _

By the time he reached his and Keen's office, he was almost breathing normally again after the completely weird male bonding experience he'd just gone through with his boss.

"What did he say…? Does Cooper know?" Liz asked worriedly, coming to sit on his desk.

"No...I mean, not the…complete details…" Was all he told her, before Aram quietly knocked on their door. Ressler turned to face him, noting the usual nervous stance.

"Hey guys, sorry, just wanted to say welcome back, and I'm glad to see you're okay Agent Ressler, after the whole…um, hunting…thing." Said Aram, before nodding and quickly smiling at them before heading back to his desk.

Ressler turned back to his desk, swiveling slowly in his chair and saw Liz smiling him.

"What?" he asked her.

"Normal day at the office. Cooper being a bear, Aram nervous around you, and Red just texted me needing to meet. Welcome back." She grinned at him.

He smiled as she left the office, then turned on his computer. There was nothing normal with how he was feeling though, as he'd just realized that Mr Kaplan's pills were now well on their way to wearing off.

###

Keen still wasn't back two hours later. He didn't know where she was, apart from being on one of those many errands she seemed to run of late. He wasn't really paying that much attention though. After she'd been gone 30 minutes, he'd called his doctor and explained about a broken thumb he'd sustained while on a case.

And had a prescription for pain meds called in to his pharmacy.

_I don't need them. It's just in case…_

And in the following ninety minutes, he'd been sitting at his desk with his own personal ice bucket challenge, except he was pouring bucketfuls of self loathing down on himself. While the pills weren't technically in his possession, they may as well have been in his right pocket, or in his desk drawer.

Because he couldn't focus on anything else.

_I'm not taking them though. It's just in case…_

So he kept telling himself, as he tried to concentrate on the case files on his desk. He was signing reports, reading and rereading the same pages again, as his mind kept wandering. Mr Kaplan had been right about that. His brain was still craving them, even though his body was begrudgingly tolerating this new turn of events and had given up begging for now.

As he walked back to their office with his third cup of coffee that morning while trying to appease his brain with caffeine (which he knew was never going to happen), he saw Liz walking from the elevator. He stopped and waited for her, then walked with her as she told him about her meeting with Red.

Once they were back in their office she looked at him, arching her eyebrows. "You okay?" she asked him across the desk. He nodded to her then, giving her his 'I'm amazing' smile which apparently satisfied her for the time being.

Or so he hoped.

###

And everything was going great. He had it all under control. Until he left work that afternoon and stopped off at the Hawthorne Pharmacy and refilled his prescription. The imagined neon sign on his back announcing his junkie status to the world was glowing brightly.

Sitting in the car at the Pharmacy for what felt like forever, he looked at the bottle of pills in his hand. He opened the lid, looked at them – dropped two pills out onto his hand – looked at them some more - then quickly returned them to the bottle and replaced the lid.

_Damn it._

And after sitting there for another 5 minutes, opening and closing the bottle a few times, he shoved them in the glove box and exhaled deeply, biting his bottom lip.

_To hell with this._

Starting the car, he tried to forget about the pills and headed back to Hotel Reddington. And he found the strangest thing…in a different environment, away from the office and his apartment, he didn't think about them quite as much.

And by the time he headed for bed, he took some small pleasure in the fact that even after all that, he still hadn't taken any pills today.

He had it all under control.

And hoped like hell he could repeat that tomorrow.


	12. Chapter 12 - Terrifying Prospect

_Okay, the 'escape from the hospital scene' was honestly one of my favourite sequences we've ever seen in the show! So of course, I had to write it. And I know that I used a lot of it directly from what we saw (sorry!), but I did add bits into it all the way through it, for those parts where we left them while we saw what Red and Samar were doing. It was such an adorable scene, the way Ressler and Liz literally leaned all over each other, with their arms around each other. Loved it!_

_But then we got a very special scene at the end of the show. Loved it just as much. The 'prospect of having to live without me must've been terrifying' scene. Wow. Thank you writers!_

* * *

><p>Two mornings later, following the briefing on Professor Collins, Liz followed him to their office telling him they needed to talk. He'd felt her looking at him for two days now. And each time he told her he was fine, and doing okay. And in one sense, he wasn't lying and had really made sure she saw that part of him. He hadn't taken any pills. The urge was overwhelming, but he'd resisted. And truth be told, he was allowing himself to feel just a little proud of that accomplishment.<p>

Apart from one… minor detail…

_I have a bottle of pills at the back of my desk drawer…_

He'd asked himself '_why?_' a dozen times an hour, but still couldn't answer that. All he knew was that he wasn't taking them, and while extremely uncomfortable, he was handling it as best he could. He was getting off the pill train, one way or another. So when Liz told him they needed to talk, he groaned inwardly, feeling the guilt flare to the surface.

Because his first thought was that she knew what was in his desk drawer.

When she asked him when was the last time he'd used, he was truthful when he told her it had been almost a week and not since Sitka, running his hand across the back of his neck in frustration. But he couldn't hide the fact he was struggling from her. And for a moment, he didn't know what she was going to do.

"What are you gonna do, Keen? Tell Cooper I'm an addict?" he asked her worriedly, sighing heavily.

"I want you to get help…" She told him, knowing he was struggling each day. And while the fact he was struggling told her he probably wasn't taking pills, she was still concerned for him.

With a troubled yet determined look in his eyes, he faced her. "And I'm telling you, I can kick this on my own, and if I can't, hell, I'll walk into Cooper's office myself. I got no problem with that." He left her then, walking into their office to sit at his desk. And all he could focus on was the drawer beside him that held the bottle of pills.

Her cellphone vibrated, telling her she needed to go, but not before she glanced into their office, seeing the tension in her partner's shoulders as he sat at his desk. Slipping her phone in her pocket she walked to him and leaned on his desk. He didn't look up at her.

"I'm sorry. But you know I'm just concerned about you, right?" she told him softly

He nodded. He knew that. "It's fine." He told her, glancing up at her and giving her a small smile before returning his attention back to his computer. A computer she knew he wasn't focused on right now.

"I gotta go, Red just texted." She lied, knowing she needed to head to the ship again. "We'll talk when I get back, if you like." She said, receiving a silent nod from her partner. Giving him a worried smile, she patted his shoulder then left the office, heading for the elevator.

And as she left, Ressler gave up looking at his computer, leaned back in his chair and willed himself not to open the drawer where his pills where. And closing his eyes, simultaneously berating and encouraging himself, he found himself in oh-so-familiar territory - sitting at his desk with his pills screaming at him to open the drawer.

But just like he'd been able to do all week, he again succeeded in ignoring them.

And for a moment, despite the screaming in his brain, he felt good about that.

###

Three hours later, he really could have done with one of those pills. Hanging upside down in the demolished SUV, pain was shooting through his head. Bleeding from his nose, with his head pounding from multiple impacts as the Suburban had rolled over and over, he was aware of Liz beside him and heard her groan as she too hung upside down. Unable to move or reach for her, darkness invaded the edges of his vision as he closed his eyes, struggling to remain conscious. But he quickly lost that battle and the voices outside receded as everything faded to black.

For a while, he rested in that familiar blackness. He'd been here too many times to count and it had become a place of solitude. Somewhere to take a welcome time out. Snippets of voices and sounds reached him and he became aware he was no longer hanging upside down in the vehicle, but lying in a bed. And as the sounds became clearer, he recognized the familiar beep and whir of hospital monitors in the distance.

And then things started to feel better. So much better. As the blackness dropped a little and he regained consciousness, he slept, becoming aware of something he'd missed feeling for days. His body was reacting to the drugs they were pumping into him. It was enjoying this. And despite the pain in his head, he relaxed and drifted off, letting his body rest as the meds ran through him.

At one point he heard Liz, or thought he did, saying his name and then something about Radiology. But then it all faded away again and he slept on.

And sometime later, in the midst of that calm rest with hospital sounds and voices just out of reach beyond his sleep, he was suddenly aware of hands on his face and someone calling to him.

"Ressler! Ressler!"

_Le me slee…_

"Ressler!" The hands were patting his face more urgently now, and he opened his eyes, blinking in the light, confused to find Liz right in front of him.

_Wha…? _He tried to pull his head away, unsure of why she was here.

"Ressler! Can you hear me? We gotta get the hell out of here!" She told him urgently as he tried to focus on her. The room was spinning though, and he quickly shut his eyes.

_What…? _

"Liz…?" He opened his eyes again and looked at her dizzily, seeing double as the room swam. "…why are there two of …?"

She leaned into his face, holding his cheeks in her hands. "Concentrate. We are in trouble. I don't know where we are, but we need to leave now. Understand?"

He didn't understand, but he heard the urgency in her voice. And despite the fact he couldn't focus his eyes on her _…on the two of them…_ he nodded, grimacing at the pain that brought his head and tried to rise. Tried to do as she told him, but couldn't manage to just yet. His brain was far too foggy.

"..kay…help me up…"

As she hauled him up into a sitting position, the room swam in front of his eyes.

"Can you stand?" she asked him worriedly, looking from him to the door, knowing they'd be in here very soon when their 'nurse' didn't show back up. And if Ressler couldn't stand she'd need to find a wheelchair very quickly.

He looked at her face inches from his as she supported him, and didn't know if he could stand or not. "We'll find out…" he answered and swung his legs over the side of the bed. And as he did so, he noticed something.

_Liz…why are you in your underwear….oh…I guess I am too…_

And then he felt her urging him to stand and he leaned on her heavily as she helped him out of bed. "…you smell nice…" he whispered as she grabbed him to stop him falling, and then she gave him 'the look', but smiled while doing so. He was loopy, she knew that.

_Oh, did I say that out loud…_

The room lurched alarmingly as he stood, swaying as he stood up with her help.

_Damn, those are good meds..._

"Okay… I'm standing…" he whispered, leaning on her heavily, gulping in air and willing his vision to clear. "Clothes…?"

Propping him up against the bed, she found his clothes and tossed them on the bed to him, then ran and got her own clothes from her side of the room. Heading back to him, she quickly threw her jeans on as she stood beside him, ready to grab him if he fell, especially with the way he was leaning over.

"…what happened…?" He asked her and she quickly explained how they'd been brought here and it was all an elaborate con and they were definitely not at Bethesda Hospital.

She looked at him, realizing they were never going to get out of here if she didn't keep helping him stand straight so he could get dressed. "They told me I had fractured my arm," she explained, then showed him the two puncture wounds. "But all they'd done was put nails in my arm then covered it up in a cast."

His head was pounding. "…I think they also put nails in my head…" He told her, his face close to hers, propped up against her. And despite the urgency of their situation she actually smiled at him. "There are no nails in your head, Ress." she told him, while still wishing like hell he'd hurry up and get dressed.

He wasn't convinced, not with the way his heartbeat was throbbing through his head, but took her word for it.

Ressler had done pretty good getting his pants back on. No mean feat while propping himself up against Liz and the bed. But now feeling like he had three heads and way more arms than he remembered, he was finding it difficult to put his t-shirt on. And as he stood there trying to figure out which armhole went where, still seeing double, they heard the squelch of a radio outside the room.

"They're coming!" she whispered, and ran to the door, armed only with the phone she'd grabbed. As the man entered with his gun pointed at Ressler, she slammed the phone down onto his arm, then knocked him out.

Ressler was impressed. He tried to focus on the guy lying on the floor as Liz retrieved the weapon. _Two Liz's are better than one, apparently._ And then she was by his side again, after he'd finally figured out his t-shirt. Putting his arm over her shoulder he leaned on her as she led him out of the room, knowing he'd fall flat on his face if he had to put one foot in front of the other by himself.

As they entered the hallway, seeing no one in sight, they had to guess which way the exit was. He leaned heavily on her, gasping as she led him down the hallway. The pain in his head increased as they moved and he clutched her as a strong dizzy spell overtook him.

"…what did they give me…?" he whispered, and she quickly answered, "Sedatives. I have no idea what sort though." She said, while looking backward to see if anyone was following, urging him to try and move faster.

_Strong sedatives…but good…_ _Oh for God's sake. Stop being a junkie for a few minutes._

But the junkie in him had realized something. Had realized that there was FINALLY something good to come of him being an addict. The sedatives they'd given him should have knocked him out completely for hours. Yet with his high tolerance to opiates, all they'd done was made him very sleepy and dizzy.

_Score another one for the Oxy team…_

"This way, come on Ress." She encouraged dragging him out of his thoughts, feeling him drooping against her as she hauled him along.

"I'm good…I'm good…" he whispered, his body leaning on her as she held his left arm over her shoulder. _Trying hard here Liz… _

"…are you sure they didn't put nails in my head…?" He asked her, widening his eyes, trying to focus again. While the dizziness was easing, his vision was still swimming.

She ignored his question, worriedly looking behind her. "We need to hurry." She dragged him faster now, hearing commotion behind them now. As they rounded another corner he reached up to pull the bloody dressing off to check his head, and was alarmed to discover that his head wound was just as fake as Liz's broken arm – _and no nails..._

_Okay, so it's 'just' a headache… _He recalled his head being slammed into the door post as the vehicle rolled, and wasn't really surprised then.

"There…" he pointed, seeing the Exit and she led him to it. And as they went through the doors and into the hallway, they slowed and looked up in astonishment. The hallway ended, opening up to a large brick floor of an abandoned warehouse. They weren't in Bethesda. They weren't even in a real hospital. It was all an elaborate hoax.

_What the…?_

He held onto the hand rail as Liz let go of him, walking out into the warehouse with the wooden walls of the 'hospital' behind her. They heard voices, and Liz turned quickly back to him, again putting her arm around his shoulder as they fled the area.

"Move it! Run!"

_Run…? I'll give it my best shot…_

The good news was, he could now stand and walk without falling over. The bad news was, he really couldn't run well. So when he couldn't keep up, trying to both run and keep his balance, she reached back and grabbed his arm, dragging him behind her.

He was feeling a little steadier now and not quite so dizzy when they entered another area of the warehouse, with dark brick walls and narrower passageways. Hearing voices ahead of them now, they ducked for cover in a shallow alcove.

He leaned on the wall as she stood pressed up against him, trying to flatten themselves out of view behind the brick column. He was feeling better by the minute, and even though his headache was alive and well, his vision was finally clearing.

_Only one Liz now…_

"Want me to take the gun?" he whispered to her.

She gave him the look. "You'd end up shooting me!" she hissed back at him, then urged him to be quiet.

_Yes mom…_

The men were closer now, and all they needed to do was get by those two guys and they'd be out. She peered around, nodded to him, and they quickly made their way to the next alcove. They assumed the same positions, him against the wall and her in front of him, gun at the ready.

And as he stood there looking down at her, he suddenly remembered a year ago and telling her that she didn't belong in the field. And now here she was with gun drawn, having just got him out of a situation he'd have likely been killed in … _and she's_ _protecting me…and I'm trusting her to protect me…_

_You've come a long way Liz. _

_Or maybe I have._

And then the gunman was there and Liz sprang at him, knocking him to the ground. Ressler moved out of the alcove as the guy went down, suddenly seeing the other gunman behind them. He whirled, and ignoring the pain in his head, saw Samar with her weapon raised on the gunman.

In a split second, he saw Liz was right in both their lines of fire.

"Keen!" He grabbed her, pulling her back into him as he slammed against the wall, holding her out of the way of the gunshot as Samar took down the gunman.

"Oh God…" she breathed, and held his arm, panting.

As Samar approached he grabbed Liz's shoulders, guiding her out to the waiting FBI vehicles. Outside in the sun, squinting at the bright light that was making his headache scream, he faced her.

"You alright?"

She nodded to him, and then Samar was there, opening the back door to the SUV for them. He guided Liz inside, then climbed in beside her, leaning back on the seat, his head pounding.

She looked up at him and whispered, unheard by Samar climbing in the passenger seat. "Thanks partner."

"You too." He replied, and he smiled down at her as they leaned together out of choice this time.

###

A few hours later, it was night and Ressler sat in their office, keeping the lights low. He'd told Liz he would catch up with her, yet he hadn't moved. Hadn't gone out to the river where they'd found the body Cooper had assumed was the Scimitar. He hadn't made any move to go anywhere and was still twirling the pen in his hands, like he'd been when Liz had entered their office an hour ago.

The pills sat in the drawer beside him, and he'd lost count of how many times he'd opened it to peek in at them, then closed the drawer quickly. And when he finally got tired of opening and closing it he had taken the pills out and looked at them for a while - a long while - and had then quickly put them in his right pocket.

_Dammit._ His right pocket was his 'ease of access' position for his pills. They had just moved up in the ranks of him needing them near.

And he could hardly breathe at the thought of that.

He hadn't answered Liz's question. _"What about that? Is that going to be a problem?"_

And in his defense, he couldn't exactly answer her with Cooper poking his head in their office right at that moment. And so Liz had left to go ID the body from the river, leaving that hanging between them.

And in the ensuing hour, he'd been trying to answer her question. And with the pills now in his pocket – that answer was becoming muddier.

The logical answer was simple - _No of course it's not going to be a problem. Everything is under control. (And you may notice I'm lying through my teeth)._

The actual answer was more complicated – _I don't want it to be a problem. But I'm taking this day by day. Hour by hour. Minute by minute. So I don't know. But when I do know, you'll be the first to know. (And by the way, right now I'm freaking out)._

And in the middle of his conflict in trying to answer that question, his mind kept replaying something else - that when he'd told Liz 'the prospect of having to live without me must've been terrifying' he'd injected humor into it to ease the tension. It didn't make his question less serious. It was just the way he had phrased it. But what he kept replaying was her reply. _'It was.'_ And not so much what she had said, but HOW she had said it.

She had been serious.

And the more he sat there, he found himself reversing the conversation. _What if she had said that to me? What would I have replied?_ And he knew in no uncertain terms that he'd have also said "It was." But he would have covered it with humor, _because it's just how I am... A complete dick at times..._ But underneath, he'd have been as serious as Liz had been.

'_It was.'_ Two words that had him thinking more about 'women stuff' than he cared to admit. He'd been leaning on Liz a lot lately. Emotionally for a while – and then physically today. And try as he might, he couldn't come up with a sarcastic or humorous comeback about that. Because he was thinking about her differently of late. She was still his work partner. But there was no denying now that he felt…more. And while he was in no way ready for a relationship with anyone…not with how he still felt about Audrey, he realized just how much he valued Liz as his friend. His best friend. He liked having her around. He trusted her. Confided in her. Broke down in front of her. Leaned on her.

_And maybe…one day…more…?_ Now he had two questions he hadn't answered.

That was definitely too much 'women stuff' to think about, so he shook his head and leaned forward in his chair. To continue thinking about that, he realized, was really going to overload his brain. And right now, feeling the residue of the headache he'd had from the SUV accident and sedatives, he didn't need to overtax his brain. It was having a hard enough time as it was on the I NEED DRUGS roller coaster.

His phone lit up with a text from Liz right at that moment. _Her ears must have been burning._

[It's definitely the Scimitar. Coroner took him now. Where are you at?]

He typed his reply to her. [where u left me. sitting at my desk] He stood up then, and looked out the blinds. Apparently, he was the only one left in this area of the building. His phone buzzed again.

[I'll be there soon :)]

_She typed a smiley. She never types smilies…_

And he found himself smiling at that, as he dropped his phone on the desk.

###

She arrived back at the post office 20 minutes later, and sat down tiredly at her desk across from him.

"So…you didn't catch up with me." She stated, trying to read him.

"No, sorry. I was…" _Going around in circles… _"Just thinking…" he replied.

"Are you okay?" she asked him softly, leaning forward to look more closely at him.

_Am I okay?_ And when he looked at her, she was worried again, because she still couldn't read him right now.

"Hold that thought." He suddenly said, coming to a decision. "And come with me." He stood, waiting for her to join him.

She looked at him warily. "What's going on with you…?" and the overwhelming concern running through her mind was that he had used and was…high? But he wasn't, she could see his pupils were fine when she came and stood beside him.

He motioned with his head as he left their office with her beside him. Walking away from the bullpen, he headed down the 'Anslo Garrick walk of fame' as he had dubbed it. The hallway that led to the box. It was silent, and only a few lights shone in the distance in the hallway. She reached out to him and touched his arm.

"Where are we going…?"

He looked sideways at her, his eyes catching the dim lighting. "Here." He told her, stopping at a door.

"Here?" she looked, and the door had 'Supply Closet' painted on it. He opened the door, revealing a dimly lit room inside. A few mops and buckets lined the wall, and yellow 'Wet Floor' signs hung on hooks. And on one wall, a dirty trough sink, with a large mirror over it. Guiding her gently inside, he closed the door behind them.

She was confused now. Completely. "Um, yeah. Well this is nice…"

_Here's your answer Liz…_

He looked at her, and then completely and utterly surprised her when he put his left arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. Just like they had been when fleeing the hospital, only now it was …different.

"You asked me earlier tonight if being drugged today was going to be a problem." He told her, his head beside hers in the semi darkness. She looked up at him, her face close to his. She still couldn't read him. Had never seen this.

"So I've thought about it all night, since you left." _That, and... other things…_

He reached into his right pocket, and heard her intake of breath when he showed her the bottle of pills. "Ress…" she whispered. "...no…"

He met her eyes. "I got these three days ago..." He hesitated when he saw the tears brimming in her eyes as she looked up at him. "And it's a refill for 30 tablets." He told her quietly, right beside her.

"Liz, there are still 30 tablets in here." He told her then looked at her silently.

Her tears spilled over. And when he reached down and wiped them away she looked up at him, unable to speak. And then he lifted his arm off her shoulder and stepped over to the sink, uncapping the bottle.

She held her breath as he turned on the water. And cried even more when she saw him turn the bottle upside down, spilling the tablets into the stream and washing them away. "Ress…" she whispered.

He felt calm. Calmer than he had imagined he would feel while doing this. And he knew it was right. He spilled the tablets down the sink, and as always, when he was near a mirror he looked up into it. He'd seen himself in this mirror a few times. And what he saw tonight was so different he barely recognized the look. Liz wasn't the only one.

He turned away from the mirror, seeing her crying as she watched him. He stepped back to her, and gave her the bottle.

"You keep that. Now there are no tablets in the bottle. And that is my answer to your question Liz."

She took the bottle and smiled at him through her tears, and then he surprised her all over again when he reached his arms around her and hugged her close.

_And this is the answer to my other question I had tonight. _


	13. Chapter 13 - I Need Your Help

_So, we reached the Fall Finale. And I am SO bummed out that we now have to wait 3 months to see the next episode! But anyway, the finale episode was so busy with all the revelations and interaction between Red, Berlin and Fitch that it was a wild ride. And with all that going on, the ONE scene I'd waited all week to see was good, with Ressler and Tom finally facing off with each other. But I admit it – I felt robbed! I had wanted to see Liz tell Ressler about Tom. I had wanted to see his reaction to that news. I wanted to see how they got off the boat and to that phone booth! But we never got it! So…this is my take on how it 'might' have happened..._

* * *

><p>The rusty, heavy door clanged behind Liz as she closed it, shutting in her ex husband as his shouting filled the air behind her.<p>

"Liz! The only way is to let me out of here! You're out of time!"

Liz tried her best to ignore him but her mind was reeling as she walked quickly, making her way through the rust bucket of a ship. In its heyday it was a beautiful vessel, but she had long since faded from that former glory, left to sit idle and slowly rust in the harbor. Now her sole use was as a dungeon, holding an unkempt, chained prisoner who slept on a dirty mattress each night.

As Liz left the ship, desperately needing a few minutes to get some air, Tom's words rang in her ears. 'We both know you are in over your head.' She told herself she had it all under control. But as she walked toward her car she could feel in all unraveling. At every step, Tom's words spoke up in her head over and over again, 'You are not equipped for this Liz.' After four months - far longer than she had ever imagined this would go on - it was rapidly approaching the endgame.

And she WAS in over her head. Tom was right about that. And that, she realized, upset her more than anything else. That her ex husband still knew her. He could still read her. And that was both infuriating… and inexplicably reassuring. She shook that thought away.

Sitting in her car and parked on the dock a little way up from the rust bucket of a ship, her world was closing in. Tom was right about the fact she was running out of time. Sighing heavily, she leaned back in the seat.

"Think, dammit. Think. You're a Federal Agent. You can handle this." she whispered, panting, trying to stop the tears brimming in her eyes. But what she was doing – what she had been doing for 4 months was likely to have her carted off to a Federal prison. Leaning forward on the steering wheel, her hair falling around her face, she closed her eyes and tried to see a way out of this. To fix this. But she couldn't do it by herself anymore.

There was only one person she could call. And he'd come at her asking, she knew that much. But what then… dragging her partner into this so they could both end up at the same Federal prison? That wasn't fair on him at all. He didn't deserve that. He wasn't the one who had kept a prisoner locked up for 4 months in a rusty ship. And he had his own problems. She couldn't dump this in his lap. Not now, when he was just starting the long climb back up, trying to stay clean and off the pills. No, this was all on her.

"I need to go back inside…and unchain him…" she whispered, as if needing to hear it said out loud. But at that, her resolve weakened further. Not knowing what her ex husband would do once he was unchained. He could strangle her as effortlessly as he'd strangled the Harbor Master. The thought still made her shudder. She had seen him kill someone. The monster within him had been revealed. It didn't matter that Red told her he'd killed Jolene Parker. It was someone else, not Tom. It didn't matter that Meera had suspected, hell, that she herself suspected – knew – he'd killed Viktor Fokin. Seeing the man she'd shared her bed with for over two years ruthlessly choke a man to death with his own chains had rocked her to her very core. She had seen the Tom that Red had told her to be careful of - standing right in front of her with a fresh kill at his feet.

And now she was contemplating going back inside and unchaining him. Leaving him free to do what he wanted. Would he hurt her? She wasn't sure anymore. But that was a risk she was going to have to take. Red had told her Tom could lead them to Alan Fitch. And the only way to do that was to put him out on the street and let him contact Berlin. Lifting back up off the steering wheel, blinking in the afternoon sun, she collected herself and opened the car door. As she was standing by the car, looking down the dock toward the ship at the end, her phone rang.

It was Ressler. She hung up the phone. She couldn't talk to him right now. Because she needed him, yet she couldn't put this on him. And if she heard his voice right now…

The phone rang immediately as he redialed her number. If she didn't answer, he would know something was wrong. He'd come looking for her anyway. Her best bet was to answer and…act normal. When that was the last thing she was feeling right now.

"Keen…" she answered, hoping her partner didn't hear the hitch in her voice.

He did. Immediately.

That and the fact she had hung up on him first time he'd called and then answered him with 'Keen' had just destroyed any sense of normality. They didn't usually answer each other like that on the phone anymore, being so familiar they would just say 'Hey' and start talking.

"Liz…? You alright?"

"Sure…yeah. What have you got?" Standing leaning on her car, hearing his concerned voice was more than she could take. And what little resolve she had left fled completely. But still she couldn't drag him into this…complete and utter mess.

Ressler's voice took on a more hushed, secretive tone. She could picture him turning away to face the back wall in their office. "Liz, where are you? Where did you go after Red left?"

"…I'll be back soon, I had to… follow up-"

"What did he say to you?" He cut her off. "What's wrong?"

She knew he wasn't buying it, because he also could read her. Just like Tom. And then the floodgates broke and she turned to her car, leaning on it. And on the other end of the phone, Ressler heard her breath hitching and realized she was crying.

"Liz…?" he asked her softly.

"I'm okay… I'm-"

"Where are you? I'll be right there. I'm leaving now. Do not hang up until I get there." He had taken command. The tone of his voice had changed, and she listened to his voice, needing to hear that right now, wanting him here and yet dreading telling him.

Liz nodded, as if he were right there in front of her. "Ress…I…I'm sorry. The docks. Pier 87." Opening her car door, she climbed back inside clinging to her phone - clinging to her partner's steadying voice as she cried.

Crying not only because of Tom, but because she had now got her partner involved and had now likely destroyed his career too.

###

Ressler was walking briskly toward the elevator, phone to his ear, when he saw Cooper coming down the stairs to his right. Hoping like hell his boss wouldn't stop him, he kept his head down, averting his eyes.

"Agent Ressler!"

_Crap. Think fast._ Turning slightly and holding his phone up for his boss to see, he kept walking. "Keen has an update from Reddington.' He called out, as if that would suffice in the midst of the controlled chaos inside the war room to locate Alan Fitch. He didn't offer anything else and quickly stepped into the elevator. As soon as the doors were closed, he spoke into the phone again.

"I'm heading up the elevator now." He had his keys ready and cursed how slow this elevator seemed to move at times. She hadn't answered him yet. "You alright...?"

"I don't know…" she told him, and he could still hear her crying.

_What the heck is wrong...? _"I'm on my way. Should be there in about 15 minutes."

On reaching the surface he jogged to his car and once inside he heard Liz talking to him again. "I'm sorry... You don't need to Ress…I can do thi-"

"Don't do that. Not now. I'm on my way." He told her listening to her breath hitching. And he really wished she wouldn't do THAT, because hell, it was bad enough seeing a woman cry. But hearing one and not being there to …comfort… was even harder. Absently nodding to the parking attendant as he pulled out onto the street, phone to his ear, he maneuvered through the heavier traffic and turned in the direction of the river.

"Liz, tell me what's happened." He told her, gently as he could, changing lanes and pushing through traffic. Wanting her to tell him, yet dreading the answer.

_This is not going to be good. Not by a long shot._

"I'll wait till you get here…" She didn't want to tell him while he was driving. Because when he found out…she tried not to think about that part of it.

"Okay…but tell me, are you hurt?" The concern in his voice was palpable. But he was relieved to hear her voice was a little steadier as she fought to control herself.

"No, I'm not." She assured him. Not yet… she thought.

Sitting at traffic lights, Ressler looked impatiently around. When the light finally turned green, he continued a couple more miles before edging his way across lanes and taking the exit toward the river and the shipping yards.

"I'm approaching the docks. Which direction as I come off the exit?" He actually knew which direction, but wanted her to keep talking to him.

"Take a left, then come down toward the end…almost the last dock…" She told him, and he could hear fewer hitches in her voice now. "Ress…I'm sorry…you're not going to like what you hear…"

"I already know that Liz." He didn't know what she was about to tell him. _But I'm still going to listen._

Driving past container ships, he came to the area of the docks with the smaller ships, fishing boats and small trawlers. No container ships down this end, and, as he noticed, no one in sight. He spotted her car parked by a small storage unit and pulled in quickly beside her. Hurriedly climbing out of the SUV, he pulled open the passenger door of her car and quickly got inside.

Hanging up his phone and slipping it in his pocket, he took in her tear stained face. But it was her eyes that held him as she looked at him in desperation and apology, with tears threatening again. He reached out to her, placing his hand on her arm and turning slightly in the seat to look at her.

"Tell me."

"I…before I tell you, let me first say that I'm sorry... But I didn't want to compromise your position in any way…I didn't tell you because I-"

"Okay. It's okay. Just tell me what it is." He interrupted, trying to sound gentle, holding up his other hand to stop her.

"Tom. It's Tom." She said watching the confusion fly across his features.

He looked down briefly, his eyes darting, then back up at her. "Because he's dead…you mean?" _Is this a delayed reaction? She's finally grieving his death…?_

"He's not dead. He's alive." And as she finally uttered the words to him, she exhaled heavily, no longer harboring that secret from her partner. She held her breath then, waiting for his response.

Dreading his response…

He stared at her. Opened his mouth to say something, then slammed it shut again, looking away. A dozen thoughts hit his brain at once, jostling and vying for attention. _Alive?! What?! How can he be alive? He's dead! She shot him! Told me she shot him. How is he? Why is he? Why wouldn't she tell anyone? Why wouldn't she tell ME?!_

She grimaced, seeing the conflict in his face. And now that it was out, the words spilled out of her and she continued, despite his silence. Or to fill the void of his silence, more to the point. "Four months ago, I took him from where I shot him. A surgeon friend of mine patched him up. I've had him …contained… since then." She looked into Ressler's darting eyes, needing him to be there for her. And right now she needed him to say something. Anything.

Ressler finally found his voice and it wasn't gentle anymore, hidden among his swirling thoughts. "What the hell, Liz?! All this time you've led us to believe he was dead! You led ME to believe he was dead! How in the…?! And contained where?!"

Though he knew the answer to that - obviously, somewhere on this dock.

She leaned toward him. "I'm sorry. I know it's a lot to-"

"No shit, Liz." He leaned back on the headrest, shaking his head.

"I was worried about telling you… with you …just coming off the pills, and I-"

He glared at her. "Don't make this about that." He couldn't take the thought of her not seeking his help because she felt him still compromised. While it was still a daily battle of willpower he fought, he had that under control… as best he could.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply…" she replied.

He nodded to her, moving on from that. He couldn't linger there, discussing his addiction issues when Tom Keen was alive and 'contained' nearby. And as the initial shock of her revelation was passing, now Ressler found his FBI trained brain kicking in. "Why didn't you go to the Bureau with him?! Why didn't you go to Cooper?!"

_Why didn't you come to ME?!_

It was her turn not to linger, and get to the point of the discussion. "We can discuss the pros and cons of my decision later. But right now, I need…" She hesitated and he turned his furious gaze back to her.

"…I need your help." And the tears that had been brimming in her eyes spilled over, and she quickly brushed them away.

Four simple words. _I need your help._

Four words that he couldn't resist from her, that now completely defused him. They were spoken with such need that they snapped him out of it_. She needs my help. So HELP HER. _Gathering his thoughts, he realized this wasn't about how pissed off he was that he hadn't been in the loop. And rebuking himself for even feeling that way, he inhaled deeply, calmed himself down and turned to her again, his voice much more even. "Alright, you got it. What do you need?"

Taking a deep breath, she wiped the tears from her cheeks as she saw him settle down. "I kept Tom alive because he's been my… informant…"

_An informant who worked for Berlin... _He nodded in sudden understanding. "And he can find Berlin, and that will help us find Fitch." He completed her sentence. She looked at him gratefully, seeing him realize where she was going with this. Seeing them on the same page.

"Tom is in that ship over there, in the cargo hold…" she pointed past Ressler toward the faded orange trawler at the far end of the dock, and he turned to look where she was pointing. "And I need to get him out of there and…back on the street…so he can help us find Berlin and ultimately, Fitch."

And now Ressler understood what she needed from him. He was to ride shotgun. He was her backup…her protection because there was NO way in hell he was letting her confront Tom alone when he was released from the hold. _But I don't like this. Damn it. This is breaking about a hundred rules._

"And you need me here to make sure he doesn't hurt you when he's released." He looked quickly at her again. "I am not going to let him hurt you, Liz" _You SO should have let me rough him up last year._

"Thank you." She whispered, and for a moment he thought she was going to cry again. _Please don't do that…_

"Yes…that's what I need from you..." And more, she suddenly thought. She needed his support, his back up, his protection, yes… but most of all, she needed to know he was right by her side.

"What's the game plan then?" he asked her, interrupting her thoughts. He was going to treat this as a 'prisoner transport' and he'd probably done a thousand of them. It was the safest way for him to handle it – try to handle it. To resort to the FBI handbook.

"He's chained in the hold in the ship-"

"He's chained up?! Good God, Liz!" He couldn't help it. Despite trying to be calm for her, that had come as a surprise. He shook his head, digesting that information. _Calm down. _"And you have the key, I take it?"

"Yes, I have it. He also has an ankle monitor on-"

He closed his eyes, and exhaled. "I'm not even going to ask where you got that from." _Dammit._ Breathing in steadily, he continued. "Okay, so we unchain him, then where did you have in mind to take him?" _Am I really having this conversation?!_

"He just needs a payphone…and I know there is one about a mile up the road. Then he can contact Berlin and get us an address." And saying it out loud, it didn't seem quite as daunting. A huge risk, most certainly, but more doable now.

"And then?" He asked her.

"Then I let him go."

_What?!_ He stared at her, clenching his jaw. _You really don't want to know what I think about that Liz._ He shook his head, then quickly got out of the car and looked back at her. And as she looked fearfully up at him, she thought she'd lost him. That she'd pushed too far. That she was indeed in this on her own and he was leaving.

And then he looked more calmly at her. "Come on, Liz. We have a prisoner to move."

###

As they walked down the dock he couldn't help but look furtively around them at every step. He wasn't sure what he expected. But knowing who was in the hold at the far end of the dock had him on guard.

"There's no one around. This end of the dock is always deserted. No one can put us here. Put the Bureau here…" She told him.

"You sure about that? People have eyes Liz. And we have Fed written all over us." He told her, looking past her to the other side of the river. He drew his attention back to the boat they were approaching. Dilapidated didn't even begin to describe it. _How the hell is it still afloat_ was more like it.

Drawing his weapon from its holster, he held it as they came up beside the vessel, then followed Liz up the gangplank. The movement of the boat on the water made him uneasy. _Damn. Why did it have to be a boat..._ "He's in the main cargo hold, down here…" she told him quietly, her own weapon drawn now.

As they walked down the deck and were about to walk inside through a rusty door, she turned to him. "There's something else."

"There's more than THIS?" He looked at her resignedly. "What else, Liz?"

She stopped, not wanting to tell him, but needed to warn him. Because it was going to be right in front of him any minute now. "Tom…killed a man a little while ago. His body is in the hold also." She said, positive Ressler would turn and walk away at that additional piece of information. She'd held off telling him that part of the equation until she knew he was really going to go through with this and walk inside to where Tom was being held.

He clenched his teeth, hissed in a breath. "Dammit Liz. You're really pushing it today. If I didn't…" _Care about you…_ He stopped, swallowed hard and faced her. "Who the hell did he kill?" he hissed at her through his teeth. And something suddenly occurred to him. "Don't tell me it was Reddington?!"

She stared at him. "Uh, no. Not Red. The Harbor Master. He's been snooping around all day, and-"

Unsure of whether he was relieved or not that it wasn't Red, he reached for his phone. "We need to call this in. Right now." He interrupted her.

Her hand shot out, stopping him dialing. "Wait!"

"For what Liz? For him to kill someone else? Kill you?"

"The only way this is going to…work out… is if we let him find Berlin and Fitch. That is the ultimate goal here. It's still a valid goal." She pleaded, her hand still on his as he held his phone.

"We're both going to jail for this Liz. You know that, right?!" He told her through clenched teeth. "But you know what? Lead the way." He told her firmly, dropping his phone back in his pocket. When she didn't move, he looked down at her, his voice calmer now. "I'm in too deep now. I can't walk away. I won't leave you alone with him."

She nodded, then turned and opened the heavy door and led him inside the boat's interior. As they descended the narrow stairs and made their way through the ship, Ressler was making mental notes on what to watch for on the way out with Tom Keen. Points in the return trip that their prisoner could use as weapons or escape. Because in the midst of this crazy turn of events, thinking like a Fed was the only thing keeping him sane.

And then they were in front of another heavy door and Liz turned and nodded to him, motioning inside the room. This was the prisoner cell. His gun at the ready, she opened the door and they both stood in the doorway with weapons drawn as they held Tom Keen in their sights.

Ressler had only seen Tom in person twice. And both times, were fleeting. He'd seen photos of the man, and knew what he looked like. But none of those mental images had anything in common with the unkempt, long haired, thin man standing in front of him. A man chained to the floor, a filthy, putrid mattress behind him, and stained sink beside him. As he took in the full view of the hold, Tom Keen and the dead Harbor Master, his breath caught in his throat. Liz had been dealing with this by herself for months. The least he could do was keep it together for her right now.

Motioning for Liz to keep her weapon on him, he holstered his, took his handcuffs from his belt and moved toward the prisoner.

Tom's eyes flickered over Ressler, studying him up and down in an instant. He turned to Liz, a sardonic smile on his lips. "I see you brought the partner. The back up. The muscle."

He looked at Ressler now, unaware of just how much the FBI agent wanted to put a bullet in his head and end this right now. "What did she promise you in return for this little favor? A cozy weekend for two?" he mocked, looking Ressler in the eye.

"Shut up." The words came in unison from both Liz and Ressler, which made Tom chuckle and shake his head. "Oh, I always knew you and my wife were the same."

"I am not your wife." Liz told him firmly, taking a step closer aiming her gun at his head.

Eyeing the cuffs in Ressler's hands, he held his hands out in front of him. "You better cuff me tight. My ex wife's cuisine hasn't been the best. Kinda lost some weight down here. I might just slip right out of them-"

"I told you to shut up." Ressler told him coldly, standing right in front of the man now as they sized each other up like two pit bulls. He then grabbed Tom's left arm and held it behind him, before grabbing the right arm roughly to cuff him behind his back.

Liz had approached now, holding the key to the ankle chains. They swapped positions, as Ressler again drew his weapon and held Tom at gun point while Liz leaned down to unchain him.

"Don't move pal. Or I'll drop you with one shot." Ressler goaded him, almost willing Tom to move now. _Are you gonna cooperate? Please say no…_

The shackles fell to the floor as Liz opened them and for the first time in 4 months, Tom Keen walked without metal around his ankles. Holstering his weapon again as Liz again drew hers, Ressler grabbed Tom by the arm and led him roughly from the cell. They made their way through the ship, maneuvering up the narrow stairs, Ressler holding onto his arm while Liz held him at gun point, until they stood on the deck.

Tom stood still, blinking in the light. It was the first time he'd seen the sun and felt the outside air in 4 months.

Ressler pushed him impatiently. "Move it pal."

Tom moved again and silently met the agent's eyes, a hint of a dangerous smile playing across his lips.

Ressler met the look and lowered his voice out of earshot of Liz. "I don't think you could swim in these cuffs. It would be unfortunate if you accidentally fell overboard." He told Tom, daring the man to make a move.

"I won't always be cuffed. Remember that." Tom replied, his hooded eyes regarding Ressler.

"Just give me one reason, and I will take the shot Keen. Or whatever the hell your real name is." Ressler warned as they stepped onto the dock and walked to Liz's car.

"Oh, you'd love that, wouldn't you. Play the hero. But how do you think Liz would feel about you if you murdered the man she's still in love with."

"Shut up." Said Ressler, ending their conversation, as Tom shook his head and smiled knowingly.

Liz followed behind the two men, her gun trained on Tom. She knew they were talking – goading each other. She couldn't hear the words, but she knew both men well enough to see that they were bouncing verbally off each other as they walked. Sparring with their words.

She didn't need to hear what they were saying. Because as she walked behind them, she realized she knew them both intimately. One physically, and one not, but both of them played a huge part in her life.

Ressler shoved Tom into the back seat of the car and climbed in beside him, now drawing his gun on the cuffed man. As Liz climbed into the drivers seat with Ressler behind her, Tom looked at her from the back seat.

"Nice day for a drive, babe."

"Shut up." Liz and Ressler both told him in unison and Tom chuckled again in response.

###

Two minutes later they pulled into an empty side street near a pay phone and Liz parked about 50 feet away from it.

"There's your phone." She told Tom, looking into the back seat as he sat there with cuffed hands behind him. "You know what we need."

"Yes, babe." He said to her, trying to elicit a response.

Beside him Ressler clenched his teeth. "Turn around."

Tom eyed him, before turning his back to Ressler so that he could remove the cuffs. After Ressler removed them, more roughly than was called for, Tom turned back to him. "Oh, you just hated doing that."

"I told you. One wrong move and I'll take that shot." Ressler told him, daring him to push him too far.

Liz spoke up again. "Go make your phone call. Now."

"Sure thing, babe." And he got out of the car, head down, and walked toward the phone booth. Ressler watched him walk away then got out of the car and walked around to the passenger seat, never taking his eyes off Tom.

He sighed, climbed in beside Liz and clenched his teeth.

He glanced across at Liz, who had her eyes trained on her ex husband as he reached the pay phone. Looking away from her, he also watched Tom making a phone call.

And sitting beside her, he wondered what the hell he had just done.


	14. Chapter 14 - Complicated

_So, more additional scenes from 2x08 'The Decembrist'. It picks up right as Ressler lies for Liz – which I absolutely loved that he did for her! Wow, what a long way he's come from 'by the book Agent Ressler'! And since we're now in the winter hiatus (...sniff...), this will be the last chapter for a while until the show returns on February 1__st__ next year – which is a CRAZY long time to have to wait! So Conversations 2 isn't done - it's also in hiatus. Once new episodes come back, I'll once again start weaving my story through and around what we see on the show, filling in blanks and generally having fun with what the writers miss telling us!_

* * *

><p>"I don't care if your source is confidential or what promises you've made him. I want him here; I want him interrogated, and I want his name." The Deputy Attorney General addressed Liz.<p>

From behind Liz, Ressler spoke up before Liz could form her thoughts into words. "You must be kidding."

"Do I sound like I'm kidding?" The woman glared at him, and Ressler didn't flinch under her gaze, coolly addressing her with his steel blue eyes. In front of him, Liz wasn't sure what the heck he was doing and stayed silent for the moment.

"It's Reddington."

Ressler was the only one who heard Liz suck in a tiny breath as he stood slightly behind her. "Her source is Reddington." He repeated and without waiting for an answer, he turned back to their office, ending further discussion. The set of his shoulders and calm features effectively hiding the fact that his brain was screaming at him '_You just lied to your superiors!'_

As he stood looking out the blinds, wondering again what the hell he'd just done (which seemed to be the theme of the day) the small company dispersed outside their office. Cooper and the Deputy A.G. both turned in the direction of the lead bomb tech that was worriedly approaching. And from across the room, Aram signaled to Liz and she walked over to him and Samar.

Ressler had just lied to his superiors…_but apparently I'm not done shooting myself in the foot just yet..._ He knew without doubt what else needed to be done. Seeing Liz still over with Aram, he seized the opportunity and took his phone from his pocket. Finding the number he needed he dialed it quickly before he could change his mind. Stepping back from the blinds, keeping a watchful eye on Liz, he sucked in a shuddering breath.

The phone was answered quickly on the other end. "Donald? To what do I owe the pleasure?" Red answered smoothly.

Ressler almost hung up at the sound of Red's voice. Almost changed his mind. But then need overrode any hesitation he may have had, and turning his head slightly he lowered his voice and spoke quietly into his phone.

"Reddington…I..." He stopped, grimacing at being in this position. Granted, he'd accepted the man's help after Sitka. But he'd been too out of it to care at that point. But now, this was a conscious decision and old habits had kicked in. He was a Fed. He wasn't supposed to need – or seek - the assistance of the criminal elite.

_Oh God, just do it._

He exhaled sharply. "I need your help."

"Anything. Tell me what you need, Donald." Red got right down to business. He didn't even ask what it was and Ressler appreciated that more than the man would ever know. Or perhaps he did know. Nothing much seemed to surprise Raymond Reddington.

Glancing up quickly, seeing Liz still leaning on Aram's desk, Ressler continued. "I need Mr Kaplan."

He suddenly realized that had a dual meaning, given his recent dealings with the woman. And to ensure Red didn't think he needed her…_rehab…_ he pressed on quickly in explanation. "I have a body that needs…disposing of. And a room that needs sterilizing top to bottom." And as soon as he'd told Red, he closed his eyes momentarily as he leaned on the window ledge. _Dammit…you've just gone further down the rabbit hole._

"Understood. Where is the location?" asked Red, and Ressler had to hand it to him. The man knew when brevity was required.

Looking up again to confirm Liz was still with Aram, he continued. "Pier 87, at the end of the dock. An old orange and white rust bucket of a ship. It's in the main hold." Said Ressler, inhaling quickly at the sight of Liz walking toward him now. He needed to get off the phone.

"I will see to it. And Donald, I know this is for Lizzie. And I thank you for looking out for her." And then Red was gone, hanging up immediately much to Ressler's relief. Slipping his phone in his pocket, he sighed heavily and was standing at the window trying to control his breathing when Liz entered their office a second or two later.

Finding Ressler standing with hands on hips as he looked out through the blinds, she stood slightly behind him. "Why did you say…" she started, but he cut her off as he turned sideways at her.

"Not now." _Let's not look any more suspicious than we already do..._ He sighed, glancing at her. "We can discuss it later at home-" he stopped, realizing what he'd said as a faint smile appeared on her lips.

"I mean, Hotel Red…" he finished, a slight blush briefly appearing on his cheeks, made worse by the fact he'd just spoken to the man. _She doesn't need to know. And we'll keep it that way._

"I know what you mean." She replied, resisting the urge to pat his arm as he continued looking out through the blinds. "But Ress, you shouldn't have..."

He nodded, turning from the window. "Later, Liz. Not now…" He told her, cutting her off again. "We should get back out there, I don't like how worried that bomb guy is looking." _And I need to concentrate on the job at hand here._

"I saw him when he came and got Cooper… I'm not sure they can disarm this in time." She told him, and he glanced briefly at her, the image of Fitch being escorted into the building and down the 'Anslo Garrick Walk of Fame' fresh in his mind.

"I don't think this is going to end well." He told her as they both left the office and went and joined their team in the war room. There wasn't a lot they could do though. It was in the hands of the Bomb Squad now.

_All we're doing is waiting for a guy to blow up…_

Ressler sat at one of the desks while Liz went over and stood by Samar again. And as he sat there, eyes glued to the screens showing Fitch and the bomb tech, he reached into his right pocket out of habit. _Damn it._ He'd been off the pills two weeks but at times his brain insisted on taunting him, more so in stressful situations … _because waiting for a man to detonate - while trying to dispose of a body after lying to my superiors - could definitely be classed as stressful._

He stole a quick glance at Liz. And from across the room she suddenly looked in his direction and nodded imperceptibly. She didn't know exactly what was going on behind those eyes of his. All she knew was he was struggling, and while no one else in the room would have even noticed, she knew him well enough to see how much he was hiding it.

###

Not quite thirty minutes after Ressler had called him, Red arrived at the Post Office. He didn't speak to anyone, his gait slowing just a little as he caught sight of Alan Fitch on the monitors. Dropping his gaze, he looked squarely into Ressler's eyes for the briefest of moments and imperceptibly, there was a nod. Ressler didn't acknowledge it. He didn't need to. And he wasn't going to make it any more obvious than it already was that Red had singled him out. He had to assume that it was done. That Red had been true to his word and had sent Mr Kaplan to _…clean up the mess…_

As Red went up the stairs to Cooper's office, Ressler found his eyes dragging back to the image of Fitch on the monitors, his voice filling the room as his discussion with the bomb tech continued. Agents and bomb squad guys in the war room gradually gave up all pretense of trying not to listen. And now they all sat watching the monitor, listening as Fitch told the bomb tech, "Go home Mike. You've done everything you can."

Ressler and Liz sought out each other's eyes across the room, feeling the finality of the words. From the direction of the box the sound of the door alarm blaring reached them as Mike exited the box, leaving Fitch alone. Armed agents quickly positioned themselves in place at the entrance to the hallway, blocking anyone from heading toward the box.

And again, Fitch's voice filled the room, "Harold, I know you're listening. Tell Ray I need to see him."

It took Ressler a second or two to realize Fitch was referring to Red. He'd never thought of the man as 'Ray'. They turned to see Cooper walk toward his office to get Reddington and comply with Fitch's request.

_Oh God…he's saying goodbye…_

And at that moment, the video feed went dead, the lights shut down one by one toward the box, plunging the box room and hallway into eerie silence. No more listening in and watching on the monitor. Now it was Fitch and the bomb alone.

Ressler swallowed hard, dragged his eyes off the static playing on the monitor and once again met Liz's eyes across the room. And at the look in his eyes, Liz left the desk she was sitting at with Samar and walked toward her partner. And almost on cue, as if 'given permission', Samar left her desk and went and stood by Aram.

They were pairing up. Waiting together for the inevitable.

Liz came and stood by him, leaning on the desk close to him. And meanwhile his brain became more relentless in its goading of him to _'just take a freakin' pill, and you'll feel better.'_ His brain apparently hadn't got the memo that it was a moot point anyway – because he no longer had any pills. Ignoring his internal struggle as best he could, he again looked up at static on the monitor.

"You okay?" Liz whispered and he nodded in reply, not wanting to discuss it. He fought this battle daily, and sometimes it just got a little harder.

"Are you?" He asked her quietly, and she hesitated. "Yeah..." She turned to him, her face beside his as she leaned on the desk shoulder to shoulder with him. "This sucks Ress…"

He exhaled heavily and nodded as Red came quickly down the stairs. Resolutely and silently he headed toward the hallway as Cooper motioned for the guards to let him through. As Red passed the guards, he crossed paths with Mike the bomb tech coming from that direction. Red momentarily stopped, patted Mike on the shoulder and said something briefly to the young man before continuing his walk to the box.

"Where does Red know Fitch from…?" Ressler asked Liz quietly as they huddled together at the desk.

"Not sure exactly, but it apparently goes back years… I mean, we know Red has contacts and resources all over the globe…" she told him, keeping her voice low.

_Including body cleanup crews…oh God…_

From behind them, they heard Mike quietly apologizing to his superior, who replied to him in hushed tones. "You have nothing to apologize for kid. The hard truth is Mr Fitch was right… we can't disarm this thing, Mike. It's too sophisticated…"

The entire room was quiet. Waiting for the inevitable.

Liz looked silently at Ressler again as they listened to the Bomb Squad guys. "…I hate this…" she whispered, looking into his eyes. "If…when… it goes off, how protected will Red be if he's near..?"

He met her worried eyes. But what he was suddenly seeing was his view from inside the box as Anslo Garrick's men pushed explosives onto the crossbeams. And even through the fog of agony emanating through his body that day, he had clearly heard Garrick upset with his men that they didn't have enough explosives to blow the thing. It didn't appear that Fitch had nearly the amount of explosives around his neck necessary to affect the integrity of the box. _The integrity of his head though…well, that's a different matter…_

"Red should be fine... even if he's standing right at the box…" _Well, as 'fine' as you can be after seeing someone explode…_ He sighed heavily, noticing that Liz's hands were shaking a little. So were his, but for a different reason as his brain still insisted he shut up and listen to it.

She noticed too, looking at his large hands resting on the desk beside hers and looked up and met his eyes, whispering to him. "Are you sure you-"

She never finished her sentence.

The shockwave ripped through the room, as if for a moment the entire building had filled its lungs with air then quickly expelled it. Enveloped in the momentary vacuum, they ducked instinctively, protecting themselves from the unseen explosion. The muffled sound of the blast followed the shockwave a split second later.

"No!" Liz cried out and Ressler grabbed her nearby hand without a thought. "Shit." He swore under his breath, closing his eyes as the shock wave passed. Startled shouts rang out from agents around them as a loud alarm sounded, valiantly announcing a perceived attack on the building. As the siren blared through the war room, Ressler leaned shoulder to shoulder with Liz, and squeezed his partner's hand reassuringly.

Bomb Squad guys were seemingly everywhere then, charging by them as they headed for the box. Ressler wondered just what good they could do now. As the alarm continued its incessant warning through the room, he shot a glance toward Aram and Samar sitting close together at Aram's desk, their shocked looks mirroring his own.

And above it all, Cooper's commanding voice now sounded from the top of the stairs. "Stand your ground. No one move until the Bomb Squad secures the scene - unless of course, you're the person shutting that damn alarm off."

As they remained in position, there was one who was not listening. From the shadows Dembe suddenly appeared, sprinting to the hallway. Armed guards reached out in vain to stop him, but he was gone, swiftly running past them toward the box.

###

As the initial chaos in the room subsided and the alarm had thankfully been silenced, Ressler and Liz made their way toward the entry to the hallway. The guards still held them back, but neither of them had any intention, or desire for that matter, of going to the box. Ressler had seen more than enough blood spilled in it and didn't relish the thought of seeing…_an exploded guy all over the glass…_

They leaned against the wall near the self-important guards while waiting for Red, and inwardly Ressler was taking some perverse pleasure in teasing the armed men merely with their presence. _Hell, I need something amusing today._ Within a couple of minutes the familiar silhouette of Red approached, backlit by the floodlights now illuminating the box and surrounding room. Dembe, his ever loyal shadow was a few steps behind him to his left. Liz approached Red as he entered the war room.

"Red…are you okay?"

He barely even looked at her. "I'm fine, Lizzie." He told her, emotionless, his voice even.

Liz walked beside him for a step or two, "I'm sorry…" But this time Red ignored her and kept walking. Ressler knew that look as the man walked toward him. The set of the jaw; the inwardly focused eyes and the controlled breathing. The man needed some space, and hell, who could blame him. Taking Liz by the elbow Ressler quietly told her, "Let him be."

As Red turned and continued toward the elevator, Dembe looked back at them and shook his head gently. Ever silent, he then jogged to catch up to his boss. As the two men stepped through the yellow door of the elevator, Dembe leaned across Red to press the button to close the door.

The elevator rose, and the sound of Cooper's cane tapping on the hard floor behind them announced his presence. They heard him exhale heavily before he spoke to them.

"Haz-mat is on their way. They will be overseeing the…clean up… of the box." He looked down the hallway to the floodlights, hesitated, and then turned back to his agents. "This was not the outcome we wanted. But it doesn't take away from the fact that you both did good work today. There's not much we can do around here until Haz-mat is done. So get out of here, both of you, and I'll see you back here tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," said Liz, as Ressler looked silently at their boss.

As they turned toward their office, Ressler realized the only thing missing had been his 'I'm amazing' smile - because once again, someone had 'accused' him of doing good work, when he knew the truth was far from it. He had lied, withheld evidence – ignored a murder victim lying dead at his feet, let a prisoner go – and called in a clean up team to dispose of the evidence. _And all in the pursuit of a man who had just exploded all over the damn box. _

But it was more than that. Red had known it immediately, while Ressler just took a little longer to admit it to himself. He'd done it for Liz_. _And that fact was undeniable_. _And on top and everything else, his brain still wouldn't shut up about taking a pill. _I can't wrap my head around all this right now…_

He looked up to find Liz eyeing him warily, her brows furrowing. "What…? I mean…apart from the obvious with…all this," she motioned with her arm toward the Bomb Squad and newly arrived Haz-mat team. Ressler glanced over toward the yellow clad cleanup team, momentarily taken back to an airport terminal just a few weeks ago. Which didn't help. Because all it did was remind him that he'd broken rules that day too. Or at the very least 'bent the rules'…to get to Liz…

Drawing his eyes away from the Haz-mat team, he turned his attention back to his partner, giving her the best half smile he could muster as they entered their office. And while trying his best to sound normal, or at the very least sound like none of this had bothered him all that much, he spoke quietly to her. "Let's do as Cooper says and get out of here."

"Definitely." She agreed, grabbing her gear from her desk drawer then walking to the door. "Um, Ress, I need to…go back to the boat…" she whispered as she stood by him on her way out the door of their office.

His eyes met hers as she stood close. "You're not going there alone."

And as she opened her mouth to protest, he suddenly gave her his version of 'the look' and promptly silenced her. And surprised himself.

_Damn. I didn't know I had it in me._

###

In the parking garage he climbed into her car, not wanting her to take off without him to the docks. She knew what he was doing, and appreciated it. But she also didn't want him involved any deeper than he was. Which was a futile effort, at best, as she quickly discovered.

"I'll be fine. Seriously, that boat is the LAST place Tom will want to be right now." She told him, then added, "I shouldn't have let you get involved…and I am so sorry about that…"

"Well, it's a little late for that. I AM involved Liz. And I had to prevent Cooper and the Deputy A.G. knowing about Tom, because I didn't see any other way to cover this up without them connecting you to it." He was leaning toward her talking in hushed tones and choosing his words carefully. Trying to only address the fact he'd lied, and not the fact he knew Mr Kaplan was likely there right now and cleaning up, or had already been and gone. Because as much as he'd done today of his own volition, even if not exactly willingly, he wasn't sure how she'd feel about him having done that.

"But I was going to tell Cooper…" she told him just as quietly. Even in the safety of her car, they were still afraid to speak of it any louder.

"And then what?" he hissed at her. "Cooper would have slapped the cuffs on you himself. What would that have achieved?"

"Maybe …but it would have been right. Maybe I should be thrown in jail…" she replied, dropping her gaze to her shaking hands.

_Over my dead body… _"And I wasn't going to stand around and let that happen, Liz."

"Why not? Look at what I've done these past four months…" She said, looking up at him, her lashes wet with tears.

_Liz…this pity party isn't helping…_

"Look…I don't know how it all got to be this…complicated." He told her in hushed tones, leaning closer, "all I know is…I didn't HAVE to do any of that today. I CHOSE to do it. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat…to protect you."

And he'd said it. No taking it back now.

Her breath hitched as she lifted her eyes to him. "I don't deserve that…"

And he smiled at her then, looking into her eyes. "And I don't deserve you keeping my addiction from Cooper. I don't deserve anything you and Red did for me after Sitka. That's just what…friends… do Liz." He told her, reaching out and wiping tears gently from her cheeks. It was instinctive. He didn't even think about it, and she didn't flinch.

Liz…I didn't want anything to happen to you." He told her, gently dropping his head to look up into her eyes. "That's why I did what I did today."

"So the prospect of having to live without me must also be terrifying to you…" she suddenly said, looking into his eyes intently, as tears flowed down her cheeks.

And here it was. The question had been reversed.

"It is." He told her truthfully, without hesitation. And not a hint of sarcasm in sight.

And at that she smiled through her tears, and reached for him across the seat. And sitting in her car, he hugged her as she cried softly. "Thank you." She whispered in his ear. "My boy scout…"

He smiled as he held her, and whispered into her ear now "Tarnished boy scout, Liz... I think my cap has slipped a bit."

He heard her laughing gently in his ear at that, and then she pulled away from him getting herself under control. "You'll do though." She wiped her tears away, and took in a deep breath as their eyes held each other.

_And let's get back to…business here… before we…_ He couldn't finish that thought.

"So, swap seats." He told her, "Because there's no way you're driving. I'll take you to the docks." She smiled, knowing why he'd changed the subject. And as they climbed out their respective sides of her car and crossed at the rear of her vehicle they stood and faced each other.

"Complicated is right, Ress." She told him gently as she looked up at him, and he knew she wasn't only referring to the day they'd just had. And as he looked at her, he realized that his brain had stopped screaming at him for the first time in hours. And that all the bad decisions he'd made today suddenly felt worth it.

_Damn, Liz…you do have an affect on me… _

_You complicate my life…but in a good way… _

To be continued...

* * *

><p><em>(And this note is at the end so I didn't give a spoiler away at the top of the page! I want to give a big thank you to angelhug for suggesting an idea for this chapter. She suggested I add a scene where Ressler calls Red to have him dispose of the body for Liz. So I did, because I think it added another layer to how far Ress is willing to go for Liz – so thank you angelhug, for that idea!)<em>


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